Desecrate through Reverence
by Billywick
Summary: Summary:Rockstar AU! Tommy, Teddy, Eli and Nate are the Young Avengers; the newest, rising rock sensation. Billy Kaplan, their biggest fan in the history of ever, finds himself unexpectedly close to his favourite band. But will the YA's good fortunes hold? And who is stalking Teddy Altman? (mainly Billy/Teddy but with a healthy helping of Tommy/Noh-Varr)
1. Lowrider

Waiting in itself is a really, really boring affair. It literally means doing nothing in its purest sense, just existing in anticipation to some event that you obviously don't control.

Such as standing outside of a hotel in the middle of a rather cold, late October Friday with nothing to keep warm but the thought, the hope of a glimpse of a famous face..

His name is William Kaplan and he's pretty sure losing his fingers to frostbite will be worth it if he can an autograph from one of the Young Avengers.

The Young Avengers...his very reason for existence. Okay, that sounded a little melodramatic, but ever since the quartet of extremely talented young men had rocked the charts with their first single, the fates smiled down upon the band and their fame began to rise steadily. Some forum users hailed them as the new Guns n' Roses, the new Metallica. Billy admitted it was way too early to give the young band quite that much credit, and he was an intensely loyal fan who worshipped the quartet as young gods. So much so he knew everything about everyone. Not just the history of the band, their discovery by a scout at a gig and their performance for one of the most influential record labels in the world and their consecutive signing up at Stark Noise.

No, he knew everything about Thomas Shepherd, Theodore Altman, Elijah Bradley and Nathaniel Richards there was. How the snowy-haired lead-singer was Theodore's best friend since childhood, how the two of them began the amazing band in the Altman garage somewhere in Brooklyn, how they'd discovered the perfect combination in drummer Eli and bassist Nate who just answered a personal ad in some local paper.

Billy wished he'd known of their existence in that stage. It would have been absolutely amazing to know them as they grew up, before thousands of people had their lyrics and names on their lips, before radio stations squabbled for interviews with each of them.

That was impossible now though and it didn't exactly help to dwell on a stupid daydream like that. Not when he could make up a thousand new ones as he waited four hours in the cold just to catch a glimpse of his heroes.

The large, silver bus crawled down the street, taking half an eternity to stop in front of the hotel. A distance of maybe six meters was all there lay from door to door. The fans numbered around the hundred, maybe even more. Billy didn't know and he didn't care. He wanted to see the people he worshipped close up. They all did, that's what they'd wasted at least four hours of their lives for.

The Young Avengers kept good contact with their fanbase, rewarding such loyalty with a few minutes of their precious time. Another quality that made them so very fucking cool, at least in the fans' eyes; they were still down to earth, despite their dizzying ascent to the popular music world.

As soon as the door slid back, the girls erupted into cheers. Billy didn't feel that odd out, but there was a significantly higher number of girls than guys here. Clearly, 'stalking' the band to even their hotel was still a very female fan profession. Billy had seen a few guys in the crowd, some of them even looked as if they might actually be fans themselves and not the tortured boyfriends guilt-tripped into accompanying their girls here. There'd been nods of solidarity, silent, male communication over the excited chatter of the girls. Billy couldn't join in with them. Not because they were female or anything, it just excited him way too much. He'd almost passed out from hyperventilation before and decided that, hey, in the freezing cold and in front of his idols, he would look extremely uncool passing out from excitement like a middle-age mom meeting Robert Pattinson.

So with his headphones keeping at least his ears warm, Billy passed the time until this one, shining moment in his life.  
Billy couldn't believe he was going to see the Young Avengers in person. He had to admit, just like the girls, who began screeching as soon as the bus ground to a halt and Tommy's bright mop of hair appeared at the door, he was absolutely infatuated, nay, obsessed with the handsome quartet of young men. Not that he was going to scream though. Just stare and hope for a miracle and half a second of meeting a gaze, preferably Ted Altman's gaze. Billy loved the entire band, but the lead guitarist was his favourite. There was something so comforting about Ted. He was blonde, he was beautiful, he was entirely too nice and polite. And he absolutely loved his music. Anyone could see that, just by watching one concert. Or even just one clip of a guitar solo.

Ted's fingers made love to his Fender Stratocaster, they produced a complicated dance of interwoven chords, translating into an energy that no words could do justice. He was...the magic that glued the band together, the magic ingredient that took the Young Avengers from just good to fucking great.

And did Billy mention that gorgeous part yet?

"I bet y'all are here to see me!" Tommy's voice was unmistakable, rising above the excited chatter and baited breath of the waiting crowd. The lead singer was well known for his boisterous confidence and his rebellious attitude. He was frequently seen arguing with the band's manager and had a habit of really living up to that cliched Rockstar lifestyle. Of course he was the first to leave the bus and dive into the crowd, wielding a sharpie and a lethal smirk.

The rest of the band followed at a more dignified, almost shy pace. Nate didn't quite aspire to be like Tommy, but he held his own, decent amount of swagger as he began to entertain those fans approaching him. Eli regarded everything with a semi-stern expression, but he was betrayed by the twitching smile at the corner of his lips when someone asked him to sign some drumsticks.

Ted was last to appear and he almost hesitated as he stepped out of the bus. He looked genuinely surprised by the red-faced, obviously expectant crowd for a half a minute. As if he couldn't believe their fans braved this freezing weather just to see them...

With a sudden rush of confidence, the blond lead guitarist stepped forward and began signing albums, posters, bags and whichever body parts he was offered. Which sent the fans into a frenzy not unlike an enormous group of sharks. Everyone was pushing and shoving to be up front. Billy felt his fingers go numb with the cold as he brought his little mass in motion. If he was lucky, he'd get a good glimpse of the band signing some stuff. He didn't even dream of getting to actually look at them without other people obstructing his view or God forbid, getting an autograph.. Besides, the only things he had on him were his ticket, his phone and his pass for the subway to get home.

Somehow through the hustle and bustle, he found himself in a sort of surging current of people that moved him without his choice, it was like drifting in the ocean (not that he's ever done that either) but the static, charged atmosphere of pure joy around him was making Billy just as feverish and excited to see the band...

And just when he'd been thinking he might be hearing Tommy talk nearby, the current crushed him against the bus, pinning him right against the sliding door still open from the band's exit. Well. This was probably the closest he was ever gonna get to the Young Avengers, but he couldn't exactly say he was thrilled to be pressed against the unyielding, cold vehicle.

Billy could have cried with frustration as he feebly tried to push through the crowds and was harshly elbowed back to his shitty position. He wasn't even tall enough to tower over the crowd and at least stare at the band...

"Hey, you okay back there?"

The voice drifting across his ears was probably part of his daydream, because there was no way that sweet, mellow baritone would ever be addressing him in real life. Billy braced his arms on the bus and managed to turn himself around, straightening his back and shoulders.

And coming face to face with Theodore Altman. The world ground to a silent halt around Billy, because here was his absolute favourite...idol, the subject of his fanaticism, smiling easily at him, sharpie in hand, bandana covering most of his bright golden hair, silver piercings winking unknown promises at Billy, and Ted had spoken to him. Billy did a half-turn, though he was pretty damn sure there was no one behind him.

"Yeah, you, you okay man? Kinda did a squashed bug on a windshield impression there," Theodore was even closer now, looking ridiculously flawless in his plaid shirt and grubby jeans and with the dimples of his smile deepening.

Billy stared like a deer in the headlights, couldn't move at the sight of all of his flawless human perfection approaching him.

"Huarh...I'm okay..."

Ted gave an approving nod, then his smile grew a smidgen more...insecure? Awkward?

"So, uhm, can I sign anything for you?"

"I don't really have anything...look," oh great stuff Kaplan. Apparently, his brain was paralyzed by the experience and his mouth was protesting out of sympathy. Not to mention the utter rebellion of his frigid fingers, which absolutely refused to be of any aid to him, moving sluggishly through bare pockets.

Damn it. This was it, the perfect opportunity to get something unforgettable, a priceless autograph and Billy fucking Kaplan doesn't even manage to bring something cool to sign.

Ted began signing the CD's and offered posters around him as he waited for Billy. At least he was trying to be polite about distancing himself from the weirdo who barely managed a coherent string of words in his presence.

"Could you sign my...arm or something?!" Desperation was thick in his voice but Billy didn't care anymore. No matter how much of a fool he looked, this was still his shining moment of having Ted Altman write something for him...on him.

The implication of what he'd demanded only hit Billy when a warm hand enclosed around his and another pulled the sleeve of his YA hoodie back. His arm. Ted was touching his arm, was smiling to himself as he uncapped his sharpie once more and held Billy's arm still by ensnaring his left fist.

"You're one of those crazies waiting for hours in the cold, huh? What's your name?"

"B...B..." the touch and gentle scrape of the sharpie on his skin might be the most erotically electrifying experiences Billy had ever felt and in combination with Teddy's voice as he spoke boosted the fanboy into a star-struck stratosphere. So far up, he never did manage to finish his own name.

It was over all too soon, the warm touch leaving his arm and hand, the pen gone from his skin.

"See ya!"

And just like that, the young man was gone, absorbed by the eager and hungry crowd of fans, swallowing him and his bandmates whole.  
Billy felt utterly numb, his arm exposed to the cold wind as he gathered his wits about him.

Carefully, he twisted his arm and stared down at what his idol had bestowed upon him.

Get something hot inside of you before your fingers fall off, B! Teddy Altman.

Billy blew on the strong black lines as if they were written in wisps of spider-silk. He would never, ever wash this arm again, he promised himself as a beautiful grin wandered onto his lips. He followed the dissipating crowd in a pleasant daze, the blissful warmth in his stomach a plentiful ward against the cold october wind.


	2. Rock n' Roll Queen

"Fifteen shows? Seriously? How quickly do you think those will sell out huh?"  
Nate passed the sheet of paper on to Eli, whose frown already spoke volumes for his opinion.

Teddy sat back on the creaking leather couch, patiently awaiting his turn to see the list. Their second tour was days away and he honestly couldn't wait to get back on the road. It was his childhood dream, travelling to different cities by bus, playing sold out shows for their fans. It was simple, yet beautiful and he couldn't be happier about their situation if he tried.

"Can we get a bigger bus this time? I cramped something every night in that piece of shit from last time!"

Of course the exuberant lead-singer had to whine about something. Teddy believed that Tommy could never be so happy that he didn't open his mouth to complain, and the blond had known the guy for most of his life.

Tommy was hell-bent on arguing about everything with their manager.  
Teddy remembered the moment they'd met Noh-Varr as if it was yesterday. Sent from Stark Noise to give the band an easier way of being organised and less distracted by their own management, Noh-Varr had clashed with Tommy from the very first second. The dynamic between the two of them reminded Teddy of eighth grade chemistry; the tiniest drop causing a massive chain reaction.

However, by now, about four months into their rapid rise to fame, it was an essential ingredient of their band's way of functioning. Tommy blew off his aggressive steam with Noh-Varr, who seemed solid enough in his person to take it, saving Teddy, Eli and Nate the trouble of dealing with their diva of a lead-singer.

"I'm sure if you actually kiss ass instead of arguing like a fishwife, Noh will get us a nice bus Tommy," Eli definitely had a knack for pissing Tommy off with less than two sentences, because the singer was glowering with murderous intent before the drummer's eyes ever left the piece of paper, "Ohio...really though? Tommy, talk to your boyfriend. I don't wanna play in those tiny bars anymore. Can't breathe in there."

"Good, your ass can choke and die for all I care," Tommy sniped, placing his boots on the low table in front of the couch, clearly still burning on the inside from that comment. No one really cared about sexuality or anything within the quartet, but anything to wind up Tommy was well appreciated. And Teddy had to admit, Tommy and Noh-Varr had this increasing similarity to an old, married couple that hated each other thoroughly.

"Come on guys, it's not about having a nice holiday. We're on tour. Think of the fans, they wait hours for us without the comforts of air conditioning and cushions."

"Could you turn down the moral apostel voice once in a while, Ted? I'm gonna start calling you preach otherwise," Nate punched Teddy's shoulder with a laugh, raising his bottle of beer to his lips.  
The band was currently living in a hotel in New York. Teddy would have been happy to have everyone live at the house his mom, rest her soul, had left for him. Maybe when they'd settled back for their next album, he'd invite everyone to come stay with him. Tommy practically lived there ever since Teddy's mom died in a tragic fire at her office and Teddy appreciated his best friend's silent show of support and offered company.

"I'm just sayin' we shouldn't let the record company spoil us too much. I mean, we don't all wanna be wrecks by thirty like Tommy's gonna be."

"Oh haha Tedders, you should go into comedy. Take Eli with you, because you're both the most ridiculous jokes the world has ever known."

Since it was obviously that time of the day for everyone to poke Tommy with the proverbial stick, Nate chipped in.  
"Did your boyfriend cockblock you last night, or what crawled up your ass today, Tommy?"

"Eat shit and die Nate. He's not my boyfriend, so you know, feel free to make a move, I bet you're dying for some solid di-"

"Guys, I got your mail," Noh-Varr barely made it through the door before being met with a face-melting glare from Tommy, but the manager easily ignored the bristly reception.

The subject of mail, or rather, fan-mail, turned the focus of the group to Teddy, who promptly turned a delicate shade of red.

Noh held up an envelope of brown paper with Teddy's name written neatly on the front. He grinned and waved it slightly, "Ted, your romantic novel of the week's arrived!"

Before the blond guitarist could even get up, Tommy snatched the envelope from the manager's hand and weighed it in his grip.

"Must be the really good stuff, you guard this shit like your treasure," Tommy twisted himself out of Teddy's reach and turned the object of interest over, "Huh, no name, nothing? That's kinda creepy. Could be some old biddy in her fifties, getting her granny panties all wet and twisted for you Tedders!"

"Give it to me, you enormous asswipe!" It wasn't often Teddy got riled up about anything, but this particular fan-mail was a sure fire way to get to him. He wrangled Tommy into his grip semi-professionally, prying the envelope from his fingers and clutching it to his chest.

Eli and Nate were grinning by now.

"Man, there must be some gold in there, Ted. You ever tried replying?"  
"How? There's never a name or an address. Now can everyone go back to mocking Tommy please?" Teddy didn't wait for the replies to his request, he just made his way out of the room. He wanted privacy for this.

For about three weeks now, he'd gotten these mysterious letters among his usual fan-mail and although the blond made an effort to treat every scrap of paper addressed to him as equally important and interesting, these were special.

The writer of the mystery letters never specified who he or she was, didn't even specify their own person. The letters contained detailed stories and thoughts, beautifully written at that and they always centered on Teddy's music.  
His fan knew every song the guitarist had written, noticed every detail he put into his work, told him of elaborate emotional responses they experienced when listening to the album. And the stories...to each song, a wonderful little piece accompanied the praise. They read almost like scripts for stories Teddy had in his own head, short movies playing out in his imagination.

And whoever wrote these wonderful little pieces saw them exactly the same way. It was almost weird to think there was someone out there in the world who really understood him on such a deep level. Of course it was creepy, the way that person could describe Teddy so accurately, but it didn't bring the blond any discomfort. The way he saw it, there was some beautiful soul out there that connected with him so deeply through his music, they wanted to share this wonder with him. And he was utterly grateful he could be so special to someone.

Each of the brown envelopes reminded him of what his wonderful mother had tried to teach him so lovingly before her untimely death. She always supported Teddy's dream, but made sure he wanted to be a musician for the right reasons.  
Teddy, she said, if you manage to make someone's life, just one life, wonderful just through your music, you've done it. All the money in the world can't be more important than that. Someone who loves your music so much it improves whatever is going on in their lives...that's who you want to do it for. You want people to love your music.

His mom was never a musician, hell, she worked in real estates and did pilates, but she did have a very healthy psyche and a good hand for raising her only son. Teddy would always be grateful to her for that, just as he was grateful to the mystery writer for sharing their love of his music with him, letting him know he'd achieved his dreams.

The other guys could never understand how much these letters meant to the guitarist. They were all in it for the music, but Teddy witnessed how easily the success of the band went to the guys' heads.

Tommy most of all. He was always a confident guy, never letting life get the better of him. His childhood was pretty messed up by his parents...Tommy was adopted at birth and the Shepherds could only offer him a broken home. That's why the teenager had been almost magically drawn to Teddy and his mom, who had treated the boy like a second son.

Eli always had a hard lot to carry. His family was more or less on the side of poverty, his grandfather suffering from a rare disease. The medical bills alone devoured the household income of the Bradleys substantially. His homely situation pressured Eli so much he got worse and worse in school, dropping out as soon as he felt his grades would disappoint his family too harshly.  
Since then, he'd sort of abandoned the Bradleys, but that was something that ate away at his core and whenever a family anniversary came up, the drummer turned into an absolute recluse. Even Tommy didn't bother him on those days.

Nate was the last in their quartet of unfortunate young adults and he'd never been very clear on his background or family. All the band knew was that his mother had died very early on and his father was no stranger to jail. Nate didn't like to speak about it, he just grew more independent, wanting nothing to do with the man who fathered him.

Music united all of them and it soothed their various pains in different ways, offered them escape from their own personal hells.

But what began as an effort to forget the real world was steadily evolving into a new problem. Eli was saving his entire share, swearing he would reconcile with his family when he had enough to support the entire family and then some. Nate and Tommy didn't want anything to do with their parents, so their money was easily spent. And Teddy?

Teddy wasn't sure what to do with his newfound wealth. Of course, there weren't huge amounts just yet, they were still pretty damn new to the whole music business and before Noh had come along, the band had made a lot of unnecessary expenses. But now that the number in Teddy's account was growing, he wasn't sure what to do with it. He had a place to live and there was no way he was willing to let go of his mom's house for some stupidly expensive place. He had everything he wanted and saw no reason to get into the rockstar celebrity lifestyle. Maybe he'd donate to a charity one day, but for now, the money sat pretty in his bank.

Teddy's mind drifted back towards the neatly scribbled story on the paper in front of him. It would be kept in his bag for the tour, definitely. These little scraps were inspiration enough, maybe he'd even write some sort of tune in thanks. Maybe he could convince his amazing fan to out themselves so he could thank them in person. Actually, he kind of wanted to know who was behind all of this, but the mystery of it was becoming part of his exhilaration.

Maybe that person would be at one of their concerts. Maybe that extraordinarily dedicated fan was out there, loving the music and drinking in Teddy's joy at being able to share that with thousands of people.

If the other guys ever knew how much he was relating to this person, they'd be laughing their asses off for sure.

He folded the letter back together and slipped it into his worn old duffel bag, carefully, before returning to the lounge.

The rising volume of Tommy's voice announced the next fight with Noh-Varr, presumably about the lack of a luxury bus or plane to take them to their shows. Teddy smiled to himself as he opened the door and found his friend embroiled in a heated discussion with the other white-haired man, Nate stuffing snacks into his mouth and Eli drumming some rhythm on the table, watching the argument as if it was a soap opera. No matter what happened, this tour would be fucking fantastic, Teddy was sure of it.


	3. Leper Messiah

In just two hours, Billy Kaplan's life would hit its absolute climax. There was nothing in the realm of existence the young man wanted more than what would happen in his immediate future.

To understand why exactly he was making such a big deal out of today, you have to understand Billy Kaplan. Small and weedy (petite, his mother used to soothe) in stature, far too intelligent for his own good, eternally fascinated with comic books and pure in ways he wasn't proud of. Billy Kaplan was, in a nutshell, a pale, thin, short, gay, jewish-by-descent geek. And he was about to live his dream.

Ever since he could be out on his own after dark and work, he'd spent every cent of his paper route pay and his pocket money on two things; comics and CDs. Other teenagers had parties, sex and being cool in mind.  
Billy knew better and now, at the age of eighteen, he was slowly reaching for his adolescent dreams. First, he wrote stories. Mostly concerning an imaginary team of teenage superheroes. Then, his interest in music took a rapid turn for the obsessive with the rise of the Young Avengers, and his stories began to gather dust as he set out on a new path. He began writing, blogging and constantly thinking about his new favourite band. He joined forums, soon he was heralded as the absolute online authority amongst the rapidly growing fanbase.  
And Billy began forming new dreams. He wanted to be a journalist. A rock journalist. He knew he was probably three decades too late, but he didn't care. Billy worked on real, seriously written pieces. Sent them away, to local magazines at first. They generally came back with a 'thanks but no thanks' note attached, but about three weeks ago, he'd gotten a phone-call instead. The magazine wanted to pass the article along. Apparently, someone really noticed his talent with words and contacted some people.

Because days later, Billy was invited to go join a certain new, famous rock band on tour to get an in depth, exclusive interview for a lengthy article that would most certainly be published.

So, here he was, clutching the straps of his large backpack, heart pounding in his ears as the cab pulled up in front of a large parking lot. A bunch of young men huddled by a large, silver bus.

A very familiar bunch of young men. Billy knew each of their faces off by heart. From posters and videos mostly, but that didn't matter right?

Oh god, he was going to be face to face with Ted Altman again. Would the blond remember him and their one meeting? Billy certainly remembered well, because so far, it was the highlight of his life. To say he had a crush on the guitarist was putting it lightly.

Once he left the cab and approached the little huddle, his brain began shorting out. He could feel his palms sweating. Oh man, he better rub his hands thoroughly on his pants before he greeted them. The gazes of the successful young band turned to him as one as he got closer. Billy felt a spotlight on him and his pace slowed, delivering him to his fate with the maximum amount of nervous energy that could be bound in such a small person.

"Hi."  
His throat was dry, he kept his gaze off of their faces, he had to remember what a perfectly normal, sane person acted like in public. Don't be a crazy fanboy, don't start hyperventilating, just play it cool, play it cool!

"You must be William Kaplan. From Revolver magazine right?" Noh-Varr, as manager had the duty of dealing with randomly appearing nervous young wrecks obviously, because he offered Billy a reserved, professional smile. Not a strand of his achromatic hair was out of place and he looked...composed. It was a world of difference to the rest of the young men milling around.

Who stared shamelessly at Billy.

Billy took Noh-Varr's hand, clearing his throat twice at least before speaking, "Yeah, that's me. I'm...uh...thanks for having me."

"He looks exactly like Tommy. Holy fucking christ, it's a clone!" As always, Nate wasn't shy about offering his opinion. Ted rammed an elbow into the bass player's side as he watched Billy flinch back slightly.

"Come on man, it's just a coincidence. Hey, uh, William. Nice to meet you. I'm Ted, this is Eli, that's Nate and Tommy."

I know, I can recite your birthdays backwards under the shower. I know that Eli's actually left-handed. I know that Nate's always wanted to be an inventor and travel to the future in a time machine. I know you're actually perfect and I would have your adopted babies in a heartbeat.

"Nice to meet you, seriously. I'm...I'm a big fan."

Oh god, Ted was looking at him weirdly. Was he not supposed to say stuff like that? Was it unprofessional?

"You look pretty cool, yeah."

Billy didn't know what to say. Was he being..sarcastic? God if he could just stop feeling nervous for five seconds, he might even get ahold of his inner flailing fanatic creature.

Tommy gave an agonized groan and pawed Ted's shoulder, "Ted, that was your worst one yet. You get to sit at the back of the bus just for that. Come on guys I don't wanna get there a midnight. It's bad enough we can't just fly."

"Well sorry if I hate sitting in a metal tube thousands of miles in the sky with an inert wish to explode," Eli lead the way through the open door, giving their busdriver a nod of acknowledgement. The rest of the band followed, pretty much without giving Billy another glance. At least Noh-Varr was polite enough to wait for him to get on the bus too.

Billy still felt as if he was dreaming. This was definitely one of his daydreams. His legs felt numb as he moved along the bus, hoping to find a seat where he would be obscure and could observe these people...This group of young men he worshipped.

How the hell was ever going to ask them professional questions and write an article on their band if he could barely introduce himself? Maybe he'd get better. And he did know a lot about them without ever speaking to them before. He didn't count that one time he met Ted, because the guitarist clearly didn't remember him. Of course not, Billy had spent a long part of his youth learning how to be invisible.

The future-journalist managed to find himself a seat, casually slipping onto the bench behind Ted. He could see the top of the guitarist's head, could smell the gentle waft of aftershave mixed with Ted's personal scent...Focus, Billy, you can dream about this memory for the rest of your life!

"So, how old are you? I've never met a journalist this young before."

Ted was doing that thing again where he moved his mouth and a wonderful mixture of honey and chocolate floated into Billy's ears. Or maybe he just had to get a grip and answer the man.

"I'm 18...this is...well it's my first big article. I nearly passed out when the magazine told me who I would be interviewing."

Ted's perfect lips crooked into a small smile, he was flattered, but there was no trace of arrogance in his gaze. Clearly, his key trait of being a realistic sort of guy was very accurate.

"Aw man, that's nice to hear, I think. Don't be nervous okay? Even Tommy's not really a jerk, though he tries really hard. Just compliment him and he's butter in your hands. Eli's a sucker for questions about his style and his freakin' drumkit, Nate just wants to feel like he isn't the background. They all have their keys. Then again, they probably shouldn't tell their secrets to you, huh? You're the enemy after all."

Billy blinked, having been lulled into a wonderful sort of daze by Ted's voice, his words slowly tumbling around Billy's mind.

"I'm...I'm what? The enemy? Why?"

Ted didn't respond right away, instead taking a bottle (of beer, very rock n' roll) from his bag and spending a good five minutes trying to open it with his perfect teeth. Billy resisted flinching when the guitarist's teeth gave a worrisome crack, but the bottle lid relented under the assault.

"Well you're a journalist. You write something and it could be like, really bad for us. You could make us sound like idiots or some shit like that. Not that I'm saying you will, but you could, you know?"

"Ah, I would never though. I lo...like I said. I'm a big fan of yours. The band."

"We'll see. But you should wait until you see us play before you write one word. Deal?"

Billy's gaze zoned in on the offered hand. The last time they'd met, that hand held his frigid fist...the young journalist didn't hesitate to take it though. Ted's handshake was firm and honest, of course it was.

"Deal."

*

The energy of the crowd assembled before the stage was amazing. There were plenty of words to describe the mass clad in black hoodies and piercings, but Billy would never apply anything else to them. He knew exactly what they felt like right now. The maddening excitement as they stood in the dark, perfectly aware of what was going to happen, which music they would hear and still, they waited with feverish trepidation.

And here he was, parked on a crate off stage, but with a particularly advantageous view of the band. Or rather, the darkness they were currently steeped in. Every stop along the route of their tour was treated to a similar, but still mostly unique show. It was nothing new to have the fans wait with baited breath for their idols, but knowing what was about to happen did nothing to slow the pounding heartbeats or calm the spiralling minds.

Billy more than related to every single person in that crowd. Even more so, because he was allowed to marvel at the band from this private perspective. He saw them huddle before the show, he saw Tommy warm up his vocal chords, he saw Eli drum on his thighs, he heard Teddy tune his own guitar before handing it over to a tech assistant.

It was breathtaking to be allowed such an insight. Maybe not for a regular journalist or a seasoned rock writer. But to him as a fan of the Young Avengers? This was a priceless experience, a true privilege.

Nate began strumming the bass line, leading the first song into life. Eli's thunderous rhythm threw the crowd into a frenzy, Teddy's guitar intro blazing alongside the lights pointing at the stage. The fans rerouted their frenzied energy into howling out the lyrics, Tommy guided them along.

Billy was mouthing the words as well, but his eyes were drinking in the beautiful spectacle in front of him. The band poured out a wild energy, a mad hope that infected their audience with an ease other artists would sell their souls for. It all seemed so effortless, so natural. The way the band shared their joy in music, the way Tommy handled the fans and positively glowed with their response. You could see it so clearly, the way he bathed in their admiration. Tommy was born for this and you'd be hard-pressed to imagine him doing anything else. Nate was paying the crowd more attention than strictly necessary, his eyes seemed to be searching for a familiar face. Billy wondered if he'd invited someone here...maybe something to ask the bassist later.

Eli was barely visible behind his impressive wall of a drumkit, bringing the thunder that gave the song incredible power and got your blood pumping hard enough to make you think you could run a marathon or scream your lungs out all night.

And then there was Ted. Teddy, Tedders, Tee as he was called by his bandmates. Ted was in his own world right now. Even with his eyes open, he didn't look entirely present. As if he couldn't see the thousands of people that came out to see the band. His fingers danced over the frets of his precious, candy apple red Fender Stratocaster, the pick in his right hand flowing back and forth. There was some absolutely flawless grace in his stance, in the steps he took from side to side, front to back. Ted didn't jump around the stage like Tommy did, nor did he try to look a certain 'cool' way in which Nate could be observed. No. Ted wasn't thinking anymore. He was playing his own music, enticing his instrument to play the melodies he wrote. There was something utterly stunning about watching Ted Altman and Billy felt incapable of putting that feeling into words. He knew he would write somewhat of a loving ode to Ted Altman's performances already, but seeing it from this little, private spot of his own?

Breathtaking.

The show was over before Billy could ever snap out of his fascinated state. The band was tumbling off-stage after their second encore, yet the crowd was still going wild outside, demanding more of their gods.

Tommy was first to make his way past Billy to get to the backstage area. The young journalist rose to his feet, wanting to get a fresh statement, whilst the buzz was still pumping through the band's veins, but someone stepped in front of him, effectively and unfortunately shielding him from Tommy's field of vision. Billy was about to tap a well-developed shoulder and excuse his presence, when he saw the look on Tommy's face.

Billy froze like a deer in headlights at the liquid fire in those pools of green. Like poisonous flames, Tommy's gaze tore right through the journalist. And it wasn't even directed at him. It was Noh-Varr that had stepped out in front of Billy and he was the target of that look.

Wordlessly, the manager began walking away at a brisk pace. Like a shark suddenly diverted by the scent of blood miles away, Tommy changed direction, following the older man with an air of potent, static triumph around him.

A hand clapped onto Billy's shoulder.

"So, what do you think?" Ted sounded slightly breathless, Billy could pick up the less than subtle hint of sweat and exertion rolling off of the blond in waves, but he still looked...vivacious. And the happy grin on his lips, which only underlined the previously mentioned adonis-like features, was more than enough proof that every effort of tonight's show had been worth it.

"Amazing. You guys were amazing!" Billy heard his voice, he sounded like a very excited teenage girl, but that was the correct way to respond, right? Ah to hell with being embarrassed, the post-show mood was way too positive for any self-doubt tonight.

"Good! Even the enemy loved it! Let me get a beer and something to eat. Come on Bee. You don't mind if I call you Bee right? Food and drink finer than in Valhalla's halls!"

Clearly, Ted didn't need any alcohol to be drunk and his good vibe was contagious, because Billy found himself grinning and laughing as the guitarist dragged him along. Nate and Eli were definitely already in high spirits because they greeted the two of them with an enthusiasm entirely unjustified to Billy's person.

Six beers and four pizzas later, the bass player and drummer took off into the bus in the company of some very loyal female fans whose long wait would be rewarded in ways Billy was definitely not going to write about. The journalist pulled the thick material of the hoodie he'd been offered earlier tighter around himself, but to no avail, it was still too large for his slender frame. He tried not to think about who this hoodie belonged to, because he was pretty sure he'd be in danger of passing out.

"Come on, let's go find somewhere quiet and do my interview," Teddy's hand was warm on his arm, steering him towards the backstage area. Between crates and boxes of equipment, Billy was settled into having a seat, Teddy sitting backwards on a chair facing him.

"So, hit me with your best shot. And promise not to make me look stupid, then you can keep that hoodie, okay?"

Billy fiddled with the buttons of his portable recorder and microphone, unable to keep himself from smiling.

"I promise not to make you look stupid."

"There's a good enemy."

"So, Ted, what made you want to play music for a living?" Billy straightened, it was good to focus on something besides his ridiculous crush on the man, he was here to work after all.

"Wow, that's a good question. Lemme take you back to my house, or actually, my garage..."

It was going to be a long night and Billy didn't think he'd mind one bit.


	4. Road Trippin'

"You're pushing it."

"He's definitely gonna kill you this time Tommy."

The leadsinger turned and hissed at his band-mates, one hand clamped firmly around the beak of a bewildered looking swan.

"Shut up, you're all doing this with me, so he's gonna kill you too, chickenshits."

Eli and Teddy were just sort of creeping along behind them, Nate and Tommy carrying the heavy, large bird towards the bed compartment Noh-Varr was sleeping in.

Tommy could barely keep himself from sniggering. The swan was completely paralyzed with shock by now.  
Noh-Varr's white hair was barely visible beneath the blanket. It was five in the morning and usually, there'd be no way in hell the Young Avengers would be conscious by now.

"Guys this is really fucking stupid, he's gonna kill us deader than dead," Teddy whispered, trying one last time to stop the inevitable disaster, but Tommy was already in position, holding up one hand and counting down from five.  
When he closed his fist, the singer propelled the heavy bird forward, Nate almost failing to let go and landing on the floor. What followed was a mad scramble for the door of the bus as all hell broke loose in the little bed compartment. Noh-Varr's curse-words were turning more colourful by the second, interrupted by the terrified yet angry squawks of the bird.

The band almost fell out of the bus, running for the door of their hotel, the reception ladies looking at them with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

As they arrived in their suite, guffawing with laughter, Teddy decided that despite the stupidity of their pranks, this was exactly what the guys needed to keep themselves grounded. Poor Noh-Varr was probably pretty sick of his position of herding a bunch of grown five-year olds through the States.  
At least their busdriver, Red, a large old biker-type in his fifties, took everything in good humour.

Teddy glanced at the door across the hall. Noh-Varr had let Billy have the room to himself and slept in the bus instead, possibly to avoid the headache of being so close to his protegees.

In hindsight, maybe they should have toned down their pranks and well, crazy stunts in plain view of Billy's observant eyes.

Teddy remembered every single moment the wonder faded from the journalist's eyes, every stupid prank taking a little of that reverence from the young face. And maybe that was a good thing. Ted didn't actually like the way their fanbase put them on a pedestal, treated them like immortal young gods.

They were just four guys, four friends making music together, playing stupid pranks and having a good time. This was Ted's dream, the fame and fortune were just lucky coincidences.

Maybe now, Billy would write something about how idiotic they could be, that there was not a breath of professionalism in their bones, especially not when they faced riding their bus all day with nothing better to pass their time than think of ways to laugh at each other or, more often than anyone else, Noh-Varr.

Of course they all had days of quietly chilling out in the bus, days when Teddy would lovingly strum on his guitar, humming this and that, thinking that he could make a new melody for a new song out of snippets.  
If Teddy had to guess, he would say that those days were Billy's favourite, because the slender young man perched on seats close to the guitarist, in silent awe of the blond, which was perfectly fine, but it shouldn't be the only thing Billy would see of Teddy.

So, the pranks numbered highly this tour, but three in particular would live forever in band memory.

The first one was truly a coincidence, because none of the Young Avengers were stupid enough to willingly break the AC of the bus. No, fate played that little number on the band, resulting in more male nudity than in a gym changing room as well as Red's unpleasantly shaped body fully exposed.

It was all fine and dandy, none of the guys really cared, well maybe except for Billy who squashed himself into a dark corner and stubbornly refused to take off any article of clothing despite the waves of sweat layering over his skin.

And then, there'd been...traffic on the opposite lane. But not just any traffic. The oncoming bus featured a brightly lettered name on its side; Saint Ruth's Academy.

"Catholic schoolgirls!" Nate howled through the bus and his words became catalyst for some, Teddy had to admit, pretty bizarre behaviour. The entire band promptly moved to the left side of the bus, all reaching for various parts of clothing. Red was sitting up front in all his bare-naked glory, not giving a fuck as men his age tended to do.  
The bus filled with fascinated teenage girls and horrified accompanying nuns drew up beside the band's vehicle and clothing fell like an avalanche. Nate and Eli went for the classic moon, Teddy did something obscene with his pierced nipples and Tommy? Tommy displayed some first class frontal male nudity. The reactions were nothing less than hilarious, the nuns rushing to cover teenage eyes, the girls clearly screeching their heads off.

But that particular stunt was just mild compared to the rest of this crazy trip. One of the hotels they'd been staying in was particularly luxurious, four or five stars at least. The atmosphere of the place couldn't have been more at odds with the state of the band if you dropped a homeless guy into a Hilton.

But did that make the four young men behave like civilized members of society?  
Nope.  
Even something as simple as the breakfast buffet was turned into a spectacle. Tommy showed up with only his lower half clad in tight jeans and his feet in some ancient cowboy boots. The distinguished guests were more than appalled by their behaviour and had stopped to stare as the Young Avengers made their rounds.  
Teddy demolished the buffet, literally piling everything and then some on his plate. Nate simply relieved a stunned elderly fellow of his plate, Eli behaving like a starved, caged lion. And their lead-singer, who simply had to exceed all of them in his ostentatious behaviour sat down at a taken table, chattering to the bewildered guests as he devoured their choice meal.

Teddy had to chuckle again at the memory, if any of the four of them had any sort of decent reputation, it would surely be destroyed by a report of that particular morning. He wondered if he could bribe Billy with another hoodie to actually include his account of it in his article. He would love to make their fans laugh their asses off, just as the band had done. Maybe it would help his cause of de-deifying them in the eyes of the people that worshipped them.

The crown in their little trinity of deeds had to be the liberation of a particular couch from that expensive hotel though.

On the morning of their planned departure, the tour bus had parked particularly close to the building, there was a difference of only maybe a meter between the balcony and the roof of the bus.

Tommy was lounging on a very nice, black leather sofa. He'd been occupying this particular piece of furniture for the duration of their stay and suddenly declared that he wanted this couch and would not leave without it. Teddy remembered the ominous five minutes of silence, before Nate grinned and stated they should totally take it with them.

And then, somehow, he found himself lifting the couch over the railing of the balcony, heaving it onto the bus where Eli tied it down with some rope they'd found in a supply closet.

Tommy throned on his new favourite furniture as the rest of the band hauled a surprised Billy and Noh-Varr onto the bus and shouted at Red to floor it. Tommy's whooping could be heard over the moan of the engine and the flabbergasted hoteliers watching the whole procession.

Yeah, the Young Avengers were pretty childish in their pranks and maybe that was uncool, but it felt exhilarating to have this sort of freedom where you could do anything and get away with it. Teddy didn't want to lose this feeling and he knew his friends felt the same. And all of this was possible because they were good at what they did and people loved them despite their stupidity.

*

"And that's why it's all about the fans, you know? It's hard to explain, I mean, I make music for myself, but it just becomes so much better when I can share it with my friends and with you,"

Billy watched him very closely, as he always did when Teddy offered to give him an interview. The little black microphone in his hand invited the guitarist to share some more of his insights,

"I mean you, the fans. You love this band, right? You don't know us, but you feel like you do, through the music. You can relate to what Tommy sings, you can feel the power Eli puts out, the steadfast rhythm Nate pours himself into and you can hear my thoughts and emotions. It's surreal, what music can do. It feels like the pinnacle of understanding human empathy..."

The young journalist's pen was flying over the paper, and Teddy found his eyes tracing over those fingers, the slender wrists, the small shoulders up to the black mop of hair obscuring Billy's eyes.  
He was cute. That was a purely objective statement, the guitarist didn't consider himself particularly drawn to men or women. Actually, pansexuality was sort of what he'd come to terms with as accurate. Not that anyone really asked him about that sort of thing, but he had an answer in case someone did.

Anyway, the cute journalist in front of him looked up now, clearly eager for more material to feed his endless curiosity pertaining Ted.  
But the guitarist was done sharing his vaguely philosophical insights into his profession for now, so he reached out and enfolded the microphone in his hand.

"Come on Bee, that's enough for today. Why don't you come have a drink with us? I'd love to, you know, hear what you think for a change. You're always asking all of these questions about what we think and feel, so now it's your turn."

"I don't really...I mean we only have five more shows before we go back to New York and I haven't written anything..." a nervous excuse, if Teddy had ever heard one, so he decided he needed to be more forward about his invitation.

"Billy, you can start writing tomorrow, I promise. But tonight you're gonna hang out with us and I don't mean that awkward staring from a corner thing you do."

The young man blushed a deep red but at least he nodded, putting his notepad and pen down, his left hand still trapped in Teddy's.

"That's a good-"

"Enemy, I know I know."

Teddy beamed at Billy and his smile was returned, finally. Good, he was getting closer to that carefully hidden person behind 'the enemy'. Exactly what Teddy had been wanting since the second day spent in Billy's company.

"We're gonna party like it's 1969!"

"You weren't even alive in 1969," Billy murmured as he struggled up from his seat, patting down his wrinkled shirt.

"You know, sometimes you're a little creepy. You do have a life outside of us, right?" Ted didn't mean it to be insulting, of course not, the young man had sort of become his attachment, the other band members referred to Billy as 'Ted's little friend' or if they felt a little meaner, 'Ted's leech' or even 'tumor'. But Billy took it all with remarkable ease, he even seemed to like feeling included by the four band members.

"I do, but you definitely enrich it."

"Your flattery won't work on me, man, I'm on to you. For every compliment you pay us you have to take a shot tonight."

"I'm gonna regret going with you, aren't I?" Billy didn't sound as if he would ever regret anything Teddy suggested and the blond's grin took a turn for the devious, an extremely rare expression on him.

"You could say that. Or you know, we could make a man out of you tonight."

"Okay, now I am scared."

"Do the thing we fear, and the death of fear is certain."

"Did you just quote Emerson at me?" Billy shook his head in disbelief, but the grin was permanent by now. The poor, young, innocent fool. Tonight he'd be taught how Young Avengers partied, a lesson he would never forget.


	5. Holy Diver

As it turned out, the Young Avengers were, in all honesty, pretty damn regular people. Despite of his persistent, god-like reverence of the young men, Billy had to admit that they had faults, flaws and at times, a bizarre sense of humour.

Like this evening's activities. Of course there was alcohol involved and some actual representatives of the female sex. Their names were Cassie and Kate. Cassie was a typical Young Avengers fan; slightly flustered to be in their presence, adorned with fan articles and a flush that suggested she was experiencing a similar dream fulfillment as Billy had weeks ago. She was obviously rather fond of Nate, because every batted eyelash, however shy, was directed at him. And the bass player was reciprocating plentiful.  
Billy didn't have to be a seasoned veteran in all things Nate Richards to know that Cassie was more than likely to drop a little more than her coat for him tonight. But despite her eagerness, she wasn't behaving like a wannabe groupie, which gave her major plus points in Billy's books. Not that anyone cared for those, mind you.

Her friend Kate was probably the female definition of a chaperone. Though she wasn't much older than Cassie, she was much more adult than her blonde friend. There was this world-weariness about her, but not in a tired or frightened fashion. No, Kate was very aware of everything happening around her and observed with the eyes of a hawk.

The dark-haired counterpart to Cassie took a much cooler approach to the quartet of band-members and handled Tommy's blunt advances with practiced ease. Billy definitely admired that fluid badassery.  
But he wasn't here to observe and create psychological profiles.

No, at Ted's insistence, he was here to have fun.

How much fun exactly could be had with the Young Avengers, well that was the question.

Billy's idea of fun definitely did not involve playing strip poker though.

Protests were ignored with dictatorial arrogance and now he was squished between Teddy and Eli in front of the table somewhere in a backstage area. Originally, the band wanted to leave for their hotel, only to find traffic jams on every road, blocking any return they could make. The majority voted to just sleep in the bus and leave tomorrow, much to Tommy's chagrin.

And now they were here, gathered around this rickety table littered with bottles and cards, playing some bizarre version of strip poker. So far, only the male players had been dropping layers as Kate reigned supreme. fully clothed. Cassie turned out far too good at poker on her own, wearing somewhat of a lecherous expression every time Nate's fingers moved towards his garments.

Maybe, on second thought, someone ought to be chaperoning the bassist.

"Alright, drop 'em."

Kate's smirk was more than devilish as she showed her winning hand. Billy stared down at his own cards, but all they spelled out to him was imminent doom.

Every other male in their round had already lost various garments, Eli sitting in just his underwear by now. Something told Billy the drummer was losing on purpose, because every time he gave a resigned sigh, Kate's eyes seemed to light up ever so slightly. The spark of interest.  
Ah, youth.

Of course, it was a nice show for him too and even now, his eyes strayed where he'd forbidden them to.

Teddy was grinning, the red tinting his cheeks an adorable sign of his alcohol intake, and he was stripping off his shirt.

Dear lord, keep it together Billy, don't stare at his...

He'd seen Teddy topless before, but it was something else when he was making a strip tease out of it. Cloth inched over skin that followed an all too perfect texture. Billy felt his mouth go dry as Ted continued to move in slow motion, every inch revealed serving to make the poor young journalist feel absolutely flustered. Teddy commanded his eyes and would not even allow for a blink.

The t-shirt must have heard Billy's prayers, because the material caught on the guitarist's studded nipples.

Whatever powers may be, they were being exceptionally cruel and kind to Billy tonight. He didn't feel his teeth as they caught his bottom lip, but the coppery fluid in his mouth told him volumes on how loose his self-control was right now.

By all that was holy, there was nothing hotter on the planet than this blond guitarist slowly revealing planes of golden skin adorned with silver. Billy remembered the first time he'd seen Teddy's piercings up close, he remembered how they promised him things he could never have.  
And now they promised him something just as unattainable, and yet so palpable.

Ted knew what he was doing, because the table erupted into appreciative wolf-whistles and claps. Billy wanted to give Kate a cigar, because she looked some sort of mafia queen right now.

"Hey, guys, come on, Ted's just showing off. He's not the only one with amazing abs okay?!"  
Clearly, the attention on Teddy was grinding Tommy's gears, because the lead-singer promptly stepped onto the table, ripping at his own shirt.

Billy felt slightly faint, the surreal atmosphere of attractive males stripping around him sending him into sensory overload.

"Hey," Teddy's smooth, deep voice drifted across his racing thoughts like honey, coating everything with a thick layer of sweet indifference. Right, the others were only half as interesting as the guitarist.

"Yeah?" Billy's voice was definitely not shaking and he was grateful for the loud atmosphere created by Tommy's impromptu performance.

"I wanna show you something, come on."

A warm, no, a hot hand gripped Billy's and pulled him along. The young journalist drifted like plywood in a wild water current, offering Teddy's lead absolutely no resistance. Billy's heart pounded in his ears and he wondered if he'd suffer any sort of spontaneous, comical nose bleedings just from the sight of Ted's muscular, perfect back. And his jeans-clad, atrociously attractive ass.

The bus was quiet, the music muffled and distant. Suddenly, Billy was alone in the world with Teddy. His brain was rapid firing possible situations at him. Shut up brain, he isn't going to...this won't be...anything suggestive, right? Right.

Teddy almost pushed him to sit down and Billy obeyed, eyes bright with nervous curiosity. He'd gotten used to Teddy's easy company and entirely pleasant company, so this demanding, brusque attitude was entirely new. Not frightening, but thrilling in ways that made Billy's skinny jeans feel about five sizes too small.

He watched with hopeful eyes as the half-bared body moved around, then promptly sat down next to him. Billy was deafened by the blood rushing through his head as Teddy leaned close to him, the drunken haze only highlighting just how deeply blue his eyes were.

A hand that sent masses into music-related orgasms on a regular basis lifted to Billy's neck, rough, calloused fingertips stroking his skin. Teddy might as well be tasering him right now, because that was the pure force of sensation his touch sent through Billy.

"I wanna..." his mouth, holy heavens, his mouth was getting closer, slurring the simple words and managing to make them sound like the sweetest poetry. Or, Billy was possibly about to suffer a brain aneurysm. His fingers dug into the dirty denim of his jeans until his knuckles began aching.

"...show you this riff I've been working on."

Reality crashed over Billy like a tsunami.  
What?  
Show him a riff?  
Billy blinked and stared at the guitar in Teddy's hands and the blissful little smile on his face.

If disappointment needed a full time representative, his name would be William Kaplan and he definitely worked weekends.  
No, he shouldn't be so let down by this. Heck, just because Teddy was not ravaging his face and body didn't mean the blond didn't like and appreciate his company. He wanted to be alone with Billy, that should be satisfying enough, right?

"So, whaddya think?"

Oh, fuck, he'd been so busy thinking, he didn't pay much attention to the pleasant, mellow twangs of the acoustic guitar in Teddy's hands.

"It was...great, I liked it."

Teddy didn't answer the hobbled excuse, instead, he just closed his eyes and hummed, putting his guitar aside with the greatest of care, before his hands moved like diving hawks.

And so did his face, because Billy felt absolutely paralyzed and completely overwhelmed with lightly chapped lips pressed firmly to his own.

There was even a tongue, soaked in the distinguished taste of beer, worming it's way into his mouth.

Billy turned into a pliable, living but absolutely stupefied doll. Ted Altman was kissing him, touching him.

Teddy. Fucking. Altman. Kissing Billy.

He didn't know where to put his hands or how to purse his lips against the demanding pressure. Billy never did think about how difficult it could be to actually make out with his celebrity crush. He'd always sort of figured he'd know what to do, what to say, where to put his goddamn hands!

He settled his hands on muscular shoulders, completely at Teddy's mercy. It was getting so difficult to breathe, he felt like his every move was obstinate and wooden and Ted was bound to come back to his senses any second now...

But there was no awkward withdrawal, there was no pause and a murmured apology. Teddy was kissing him,steadfast and leisurely, as if he really had absolutely no qualm about it. His hands secured Billy's neck, his body curving over Billy's, slowly easing him backwards.

Backwards and downwards. Billy's stomach announced a rollercoaster ride of epic proportions and his brain was on its last legs, trying to give the barely legal adult all sorts of gobbled advice.

There was movement above his clothing now. Granted, he was wearing like four layers, the green and black striped hoodie Teddy had given to him right on top, and still the wandering fingers along his side felt like red-hot soldering irons. Okay, that sounded as if he didn't want the exploring touch, which was entirely true, he wanted Teddy's hands all over him and preferably without clothes in the way, but Billy was hyper-aware of everything his world had narrowed to.

"Off..." a muttered command against his lips had Billy obeying like a well-trained puppy, because his hands were off in a mad dash, shivering as he peeled the zipper down, his belt open and pushed off his clinging trousers.

A light chuckle made him freeze right in the middle of pushing the heavy hoodie off of his shoulders. Fuck. He was behaving like a groupie, wasn't he? It was probably all a joke, Ted probably had a bet, oh fuck, he was so embarrassed, he was going to...

"You're really beautiful, Bee."

The sincerity in that voice he loved had Billy stop breathing for a minute. He looked up, finally daring to meet those wonderful blues. Teddy was drunk, that was obvious...but he didn't look beside himself or as if he was joking.

He wasn't. He was still smiling, and that smiling face came closer once more, bypassing Billy's lips and wandering straight down to the hemline of his shirt. Teddy gripped the material of his T-shirt with his teeth, lifting and revealing with a smirk.

Billy waved his brain functions goodbye and moved automatically, letting the guitarist deposit the cloth at his neck expectantly. He struggled out of the layers and for once, he wasn't ashamed of being bared in front of Teddy. The blond took a moment to admire his catch, before he lowered his head once more, lips, teeth and tongue introducing himself to Billy's chest.

The touch alone sent static electricity shooting through the slim young body. He'd never, ever wanted someone this badly, and yet all Teddy was doing was biting and sucking at his skin, his stomach, his...

Billy gave a hiss when Teddy's teeth enclosed on the hardening little nubs of flesh he'd always wanted to be pierced. The perfect human being above him gave a little rumbling growl, clearly the noise from his 'victim' was to his liking.  
The hands that had been stroking Billy so idly were suddenly active again, their wandering turning into a determined march downwards.

Billy's pants had never left his legs so quickly as now, the responsible hands clutching at Billy's thighs as if they were the best thing they'd ever had the privilege of touching. Teddy shot up from Billy's chest, claiming his mouth in a far rougher kiss, groaning barely comprehensible words.

"Your legs...your goddamn amazing legs, Bee!"

If he wasn't in the process of being seriously fondled and manhandled right now, Billy might have snorted, but as there was a much more pressing problem grinding down on his crotch, the young man struggled to keep his mind focused enough to kiss back properly.

Teddy was astoundingly hard for him and he let him feel every inch of it, because his (sadly still clothed) hips weren't leaving a breath of space between their bodies, Teddy's hands prying Billy's legs apart.

Oh, his intentions were very, very clear.

Billy was pretty sure this was what ice felt like when faced with a flamethrower. He yielded absolutely no resistance to Teddy's eager, hungry demands, his body allowing every manner of touch and his usually sharp mind having taken a short term vacation.

"Bee, I wanna fuck you...really bad...can I?"

Billy was so caught up in the honey of that drawl, he completely missed the question. It only dawned on him when his mind lazily replayed it whilst Teddy stared down anxiously at him.

If he opened his mouth now, he'd only manage a squeak, so Billy nodded instead. Apparently, enough permission for the blond, who's mouth assailed Billy's seconds later.

The last remaining barriers between their skin met their instant defeat at Teddy's overly eager hands and when the guitarist next pressed his hips down, his dick met with Billy's heated skin.

Billy was either going to scream like a ten year old girl getting a pony, or, more appropriately, bite his lip, stare up at his dream lover and give a beautiful little moan.

Five stars on all points but the moan, which was kind of choked by the gasp that had decided to be made simultaneous.

Teddy smiled that beautiful smile of his, and then his hands were everywhere. Okay, no, they were on Billy's member and sliding over the curve of his ass, but the description was a more accurate metaphor for what Billy felt.

This was happening, this was real, his hips really were twitching and jerking forward into Teddy Altman's grip.

And his lips, well, those were still entirely occupied. Billy couldn't decide if he liked kissing or watching Teddy smile better, but both were definitely new material to his daydreams. Memories. these would be memories.  
"You like this, huh? Sorry, I'm gonna rush a little, I've been waiting for weeks to do this," Teddy continued to talk as if Billy was capable of having a real conversation right now. Again, the overwhelmed journalist managed a nod.

Teddy really wasn't kidding about his warning, because one of his hands left Billy's privates and snapped something open, then a slightly cold, definitely lubed digit pressed inside of him.

Billy was so incredibly glad he'd been curious enough to try out some things like toys and replicas, because he didn't really want Teddy to know he'd never slept with a real boy before.

And Plastic Teddy did not count as one of those.

Teddy seemed to actually be having fun, because he was tapping a little rhythm against Billy's dick (that was all sorts of distracting and yet, still kind of hot) and stroking inside of the journalist.

Billy tried not to buck, tried to keep still and calm, but his throat wouldn't cooperate, instead forcing him to make little noises, little moan-like things that he'd die of shame for if they didn't make Teddy's blue eyes spark.

"Hm, you're fast...s'good, Bee, real good."

Maybe he ought to be less concerned about passing out from overstimulation and be weary of Teddy's drunken, slurring tone. A second and third finger pushed inside of Billy and his fingers dug a little deeper into Teddy's hair. It was probably the adrenaline, the pure rush he was getting because his favourite rockstar was about to sleep with him, but Billy was sick of waiting.

"Teddy, Tee, can you just...just, you know, fuck me?"

He'd expected a laugh or something, but his words just made Teddy growl once more. The fingers withdrew from him and for a second, he mourned their sudden departure. But he wouldn't be disappointed by their replacement. Teddy dug through his trousers viciously, finding what he needed and practically ripping the innocent plastic packaging open with his teeth.

Billy only felt slightly obscene when Teddy lifted his legs up and pushed a pillow beneath his back, positioning himself between trembling limbs.

"Gonna feel real nice, yeah."

Even as practiced as he considered himself, nothing could have prepared him for the real feeling. Billy closed his eyes, feeling every single nerve in his body aware of the intrusion, the thick, hard, hot foreign body part pushing itself past a ring of muscles that were barely relaxed enough.

And Billy didn't mind the ache, didn't mind that Teddy wasn't as gentle as he could have been. He just felt a wild need to rake his nails down Teddy's back and whisper husky demands to be fucked really thoroughly into the blond's ear.

It was all Teddy from here on out. The poorly executed foreplay was the last playground Billy had any sort of experience in, thanks to Jimmy Stidham, but this? Nope, a completely new, now entirely Teddy-based world just opened its gates for the young man.

He did get to rake his nails over the golden, perfect skin of Ted's back though as the guitarist began his rhythm. He watched Billy though, watched him for signs of discomfort which never came and smiled.. Billy was pretty sure the sun only rose for Teddy Altman's smile.

These movements did come to him naturally though, apparently even his body knew this dance older than angled, ground and twisted until he felt the right amount of friction to make this feel pleasant. And Teddy, the perfect being, he allowed him to shift, he kissed his neck, his lips, his collarbone and any other part of skin he could reach, all the while searching for something within his 'enemy'.

Billy didn't know if they'd been doing this for five minutes or an hour, but the rhythm was perfect and Teddy hit the jackpot, because with this particular angle, every time the blond thrust in, Billy's body shuddered in anticipation. Was he really going to...oh yes. This was better than any daydreams he could have had.

Lips swollen from their frantic kissing sought out his neck, teeth gripping skin hard enough to bruise and Billy didn't mind one single bit. The room was on fire, or possibly traversing in a different realm, because the world had ceased to even exist around them. Billy felt the fiery burn of his oncoming orgams pull at every last shred of his sanity, and yet he wanted this to continue forever.

Teddy had lost himself in a mantra of grunts and groans, looking as beautifully absorbed as he did when he played a solo on stage. His face took on a few more creases as his brows drew was hazed, obscured with the pleasure of the moment and he moved back from Billy's neck, resting his forehead against his partner's.

"Gonna come for me, Bee?"

That was possibly the best question Billy ever heard in his entire life, because it unleashed the impending tidal wave across his entire being. Fingers clawed into Teddy, his head jerked up to be buried in a strong, slightly sweaty neck, Billy came with a muffled cry. Whether it was a love confession, Teddy's name or just a moan, no one would ever know, because Billy's orgasm ripped Teddy's along behind it.

The world was still and silent around both of them. It took a long moment before Billy let go and lowered himself back to the bed. Teddy remained above him, awe and satisfaction in his gaze. He leaned down, placing another kiss on Billy's sweaty forehead, the smile on his face ready to set the world ablaze.


	6. Freaking Me Out

"He fucked us."

The entire band, in various states of relaxation looked over to Noh-Varr as a collective. A very confused collective, because as far as they were concerned, someone would actually have to get around to sleeping with this particular he in order to be fucked.

"Pretty sure only one to fuck you would be Tommy," Eli mentioned way too casually, which earned him a prompt kick and furious emerald gaze. Noh-Varr disregarded the comment entirely, which in itself, bode very ill.

There was a copy of something rectangular and glossy in his grip and the band was slowly treated to the revelation of their own faces on the front page. The first cheer erupted out of Nate, completely forgetting what their manager just said.

"We're on the cover of-"

"That little shit fucked us over!" Noh slammed the magazine down, the slap of gloss paper smacking onto wood echoing over the shocked group of young men. Their gazes moved down to the magazine as one and the title there beneath their band name offered them the final piece to the puzzling reaction of their usually calm manager.

Young Avengers; this season's money-hungry mediocre mongrels?

No one said a word. Tommy was first to touch the suddenly hideously offensive rag of paper. He opened it, found the page and there it was, in front of them. The leadsinger began to read out loud.

"The Young Avengers, a mediocre band of barely post-adolescent pups hungry for fame and riches are this year's up and coming sensation. Expected shelf life? Maybe three years, if they're lucky, but I doubt it..."

The room, previously filled the gentle preamble of relaxed occupation, cooled as if it had been teleported to the arctic. Every scene the article described, every scalding word and languid insult reeked of condescending arrogance, of contempt.

Teddy could barely believe he was awake, let alone really experiencing this moment. Those words sounded so foreign and cruel. He could not, for the life of him, imagine them flowing from Billy's fingers.

"This is bullshit. Don't we get a say in what gets printed before it does?"

Noh-Varr remained silent as he turned his sphinx-like glare to Teddy.

"Someone signed a form that waives all our disclaiming rights."

Teddy suddenly didn't feel the arctic anymore. No, he was in an oven or possibly a furnace as the rest of his band turned to look at him for an answer. He did dimly remember Billy handing him a form to sign, an insignificant piece of paper and a pleading in those beautiful, chocolate eyes...

"Oh fuck."

"What the hell Ted?! Why the fuck would you do something like that?!" Tommy let go of the magazine as if it was burning to the touch, instead levelling his toxic glare at the guitarist. Teddy scrambled his brain for an excuse, but he never was very good at lying. About anything. Not even his age at bars back in the teenage days.

"He asked me and I just...sorry guys, I'm sorry okay?"

"Yeah, sorry you were completely dick-whipped by that little cocksucker, jesus what are we gonna do Noh?"

The enraged voices began arguing, discussing and questioning their manager, but Teddy remained quiet. He didn't care what the article said about their band, but he needed to know...the guitarist tugged the offensive rectangle closer, flipping through the pages, nausea rising in him at every sentence he forced himself to read. And then, as the cherry on this cake of atrocity, Billy's name under it all. As if he proudly confirmed to all of this bullshit.

Teddy no longer cared for the magazine or the loud arguments in the room. Tommy was tearing into Noh-Varr, who barely concealed his own rage at the matter. Those fucking idiots, they weren't even mad at each other, but they never did find other outlets.

Everything became muffled, the sound of angry voices fading as Teddy made his way somewhere else, anywhere else. He needed solitary and silence only when something in his life went to irreparable shit. Like his mom dying. Like this right now.

Why...why the hell would Billy do this to them? Was it his plan all along? Did he scheme this behind those beautiful chocolate eyes?  
Teddy didn't want to believe it to be true. How could he have been so wrong about someone? Someone he thought special to himself, someone he wanted to actually build some kind of relationship with, because hell, Billy was cool, Billy was cute, Billy was...

A fucking liar. A traitor. The enemy.

How could he have been so stupid? They'd all joked about it, but the truth, the harsh reality of it all struck Teddy down with a vengeance.

Despite everything Teddy knew about what not to do with people you wanted to be friends with and people you should keep your distance to, he'd slept with Billy. And it was fine. Sure, there had been the awkward morning stare from the dark-haired journalist and the utter despair when Teddy didn't say anything.  
But it was all okay.  
There hadn't been a great talk, no discussion on how things would proceed. Billy had stared at him, his beautiful eyes full of ugly worry. Teddy didn't like when he looked like that. And something had clicked in the guitarist. He wasn't a fling type, he didn't waste his time with one night stands, he didn't need to satisfy some primal urges at every opportunity.

True to form, the world was a bitch and life loved to kick him when he was down.  
So, the one time he actually went and thought he could develop a relationship, something solid, something sweet and warm to keep him company on the road, when the band wasn't caught up in some ridiculous shenanigans, it turned out to be the biggest clusterfuck he could have delivered upon them all.

Fuck.

It couldn't be true.

He had to talk to Billy, because there was no way he could just ignore all of this. When he'd last seen the journalist, it had been a kind of emotional goodbye at the airport, one with stupid jokes and sappy promises and finally, the exchange of numbers and one last, meaningful glance.

In that moment...well they weren't infinite, but Teddy felt it then. He wanted to see Billy, he never wanted the young man gone from his side again, because everything felt right when they were together. Not just the sex or the mind-blowing kisses...he couldn't think of a better use of his day than spending it with his friends and Billy, then play a gig in the evening, then hang out more.

Fuck it all.

Why couldn't he have that? Was it really so fucking difficult?

Teddy stopped walking, he had no idea which way he'd taken, which part of the building he'd ended up in. But there was a window and a ledge, that would have to do. The world outside had the nerve to actually reflect his mood, grey rain sleeting against the window, whipped sideways by the harsh winds. Ah, New York.

The guitarist dug for his phone, spent half an eternity looking through old text messages and pictures instead of working up the courage to dial that one number.

He didn't particularly care about every teenage romance movie trope he was fulfilling, but he just couldn't look away. A picture of himself and Billy, asleep, their faces adorned with less than flattering sharpie impressions of their sexlife. Must have been Tommy, it was right up his alley to draw dicks and hypocritical insults on innocent sleepy people. Billy was nestled against Teddy's shoulder and looked more content than anyone Ted had ever seen, possibly ever. There was a loose arm around his shoulders, keeping him snug against the guitarist. Teddy's cheek was pressed to the window, his mouth was open and yet he managed to be sort of smiling. Teddy always thought he looked pretty damn goofy when he did smile and this picture was definitely proof of that, but it stirred so much more than mild embarrassment in him.

Why the fuck couldn't it have stayed like that? Like this one fucking picture on his phone, one which felt like a knife in his gut right now.

He needed answers. Right now. Without any further delay, he searched his phone book for Billy, found him immediately and hit the green call button. There had to be some mistake. There just had to be.

*

It was ringing again.  
Billy buried his head underneath his pillow, patting his stereo for the volume control, though he already knew it was at its maximum.

Fuck.

He shouldn't have turned the damn phone on at all, but as much as his world seemed to have ended, he still needed to be available for his employer and family. Just not this one person who wouldn't stop calling.

The first time he'd seen Teddy's name pop up next to the incoming call, his heart had skipped around four beats and his throat dried up. And he hadn't answered. Just like he wouldn't answer now, or any of the other fifteen times Teddy called him.

Fuck it all.

How the hell was he even supposed to talk to him? Surely, the guitarist only wanted to call to tell him how everything was over, how he never wanted to see Billy's disgusting, lying little face again. And it wasn't as if he could even blame him.

He fucked up. He fucked up so insanely he couldn't even pin it on anyone besides himself anymore.

And he was definitely not going to suffer through Teddy's breakup with him, he couldn't take that blow, he knew it was childish and selfish to ignore the phone calls, the endless texts, the emails and voicemails. But Billy couldn't face that too. It was bad enough his name greeted him in every magazine stand, he'd even heard about it on the radio. Better to let Teddy give up on trying to reach him. That way, at least he had the good memories to hold him as his life plunged into a bleak abyss in front of his eyes.

Billy tightened his grip on the pillow, he didn't want to hear the phone or the music or the world anymore. He'd already cried, screamed, broken some of his most precious possessions in fits of helpless rage and frustration.

But it was too late now. He'd made the mistake and now he was going to lie in the grave he'd dug himself when he signed over his editorial rights. He just wanted to make the band's dream of being on the front cover become reality so badly.

Never in his naive young life would he have considered just how much an editor could change his article. But it was definitely too late. Why should Teddy believe him now? How could Billy even bear to talk to him? He had never been so ashamed of himself, not in his entire life.

The phone stopped ringing and the loud beep of his voicemail filled the room beyond the rhythmic thump of the music. Billy held his breath, expected Teddy's voice, hoped for just one last message from him, something the young man could hold onto alongside his precious memories.

The phone clicked, call ended, without a word lost on the voicemail. Billy choked on his own breath, wanted to press himself further into the mattress, wanted to disappear entirely as his insides curled and jerked. That was it. The last one, he could feel it. This wasn't how he wanted it to end, hell, he'd never wanted it to end, but what choice did he have?

*

On the other end of the phone line, Teddy stared down at the display of his device, the sound of silence only broken by the pelting rain on the glass.

So that was it. Billy was never going to answer or speak to him again. The last shred of hope dripped from his mind, left his aching heart behind. So was it true? Did Billy use them? To get himself what, one article and a name as a critical writer?

Fuck, that was just plain slander, not exactly realistic, critical assessment. Was that what journalists nowadays? Did they just tear people down without a shred of human remorse?

The guitarist buried his face in one hand, wiping over already irritated skin time and time again.

"You're gonna break out man, won't look good in our interview on Entertainment Weekly."

Eli was one of the last people he'd expected to follow him out here, but his presence wasn't entirely unwelcome.  
"You know, I don't think I give a shit about a couple of zits on national TV right now, Eli."

The drummer grimaced and patted Teddy's arm.

"Hey look, I know this is really fucking shitty, especially for you, but none of us blame you. And it's...fine if you need some time, you did just get...you know...your heart cut out."

Teddy covered his friend's hand with his own, gave it a firm, grateful squeeze and relinquished it again.

"I'll be...alright. Gotta be, right? World keeps turnin' and all that. I've got my guitar, I've got my friends."

A final squeeze from Eli's hand and a smile.

"Yeah man. We've all got each other, that's all we need to be alright, isn't it?"

"Definitely."


	7. Devil's Dance

They shouldn't play tonight. Teddy couldn't shake his gut instinct, no matter how many times his bandmates encouraged him, punched his shoulder or promised him absurd rewards if he'd ditch this bad mood. Not that they could really complain, this was by far the mildest atmosphere he'd graced his friends and colleagues with for weeks.

And the reason?

The article was over a month old by now, obsolete and filed away as one of the most critical writings ever published in the magazine, but apart from that, it had become obscure, a thing of the past as the Young Avengers continued to streak a dazzling trail across the rock music heavens. Their star was shining ever brighter, much to the contrary of the one who besmirched their name with incredibly painful lies and slander.

No one heard from Billy Kaplan. His name didn't appear in any part of the following Revolver issues, he didn't answer Noh's calls, even after the manager's fury had lessened.

And he never contacted Teddy.

The guitarist spent a good, long while brooding, nursing a shattered heart he didn't know he'd given away before it was too late. Billy trampled on it, ripped in half by writing those words, allowing them to be printed with his name, approved of the treacherous untruths told of the band he supposedly loved, poured bleach into the open wound by refusing to at least explain or defend himself.

No, Billy Kaplan had disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared, a fleeting flock of memories too happy than an enemy deserved, the only thing Teddy clung to. And he did cling pathetically. Eli, amazing, carry-the-world-on-my-shoulders Eli had been there for Teddy when Tommy lost patience with the cloying, repetitive conversations the blond wanted to have. But even Eli told him when it was enough, when even Eli couldn't hear the ex-journalist's name on Teddy's lips anymore.

It was like an endless staircase in one of those stupid SCP games Tommy loved so much because that idiot did anything for an adrenaline rush. Every time he came to a stop, every time Teddy told himself that he wasn't going to think of Billy anymore, that he would write a song and play it and be done with the whole subject, a whole new part of his heart revealed just another tiny detail, one more thing that could make him fall right back down the height he'd scaled.

A broken heart might be inspirational for some artists, but to Teddy, it was soul-destroying.

Of course, the fact their little group of regular faces had grown by two didn't help much, because as Teddy fell into despair, Nate and Eli were both in the steady process of attaining relationships with their ladies of choice.

Okay, mostly, it was Nate who'd really scored with Cassie. The two of them spent endless hours, every moment that could be spared in a heady whirlwind romance, with neither caring whether it would last or not, their naive joy at the freedom it brought to be with the band creating a solid shield around them, impervious to misery and broken hearts and Tommy's disgusted whining about people sucking face in front of him.

Then there was Eli and Kate, caught up in a dance, a complicated rhythm of one forward, two steps back. They bantered and flirted, yet they lacked the airy detachment that should be integral to this sort of thing. No, there was something there, a deep pressure from both sides to stay behind their safety walls and yet, an undeniable urge to tear those walls down, at least cut a hole into them for each other.

Tommy had complaints about this too, claiming there to be too much unresolved sexual tension in the room and promptly attempting to remedy it by flirting with Kate.  
Okay, he only did that for the half minute it took for Eli to throw something at him and for Noh-Varr, if present, to settle tempers too eager to bruise each other.

The poor manager. Teddy had much respect for the man and the way he dealt with everyone's problems, all the crap the band had no idea about. Noh-Varr handled their finances (decently too, if Ted's bank account wasn't lying), the relationship with their label, he made preparations, provisions, even kept papparazzi off of their backs. Ted would thank him for all of this one of these days, even if he was just doing his job. One of these days when Noh-Varr tore his gaze away from Tommy like he was the only corporal thing in the world. One of these days, Teddy was going to sit down with his best friend, his loud-mouthed, idiot friend and try to talk to him about that. He never cared much for Tommy's nightly adventures, but the moment someone stole secret glances at the singer like he was this other-wordly, marvelous creature, it was time for some serious advice.

With all of these people around him, it wasn't easier to forget Billy. But it was easier to deal with problems besides his own. Teddy was good at that, pushing away his own troubles and chewing through those of others with glad acceptance.

So, maybe this was retribution. Maybe it was just that his gut was so full of emotions he hadn't dealt with. Maybe he couldn't rely on his instincts right now, or in the near future.

But he definitely needed to talk to his friends, see if they could take a little break, sit back, allow him time to write and work through his heartbreak. Maybe they could all go on vacation, somewhere far away, somewhere no one knew them and they could just enjoy the money they'd earned. He'd like that. These people, his friends, they were his new family. He loved each of them and knew that he'd feel alright, one day, as long as he had his family.

After this show, he decided. After this show, he'd get everyone together over their usual after-concert-beers and declare the need for a lengthy tropical holiday. He could already hear the cheering, Noh groaning because he'd have to deal with the organisation, Kate trying to keep Cassie's sudden need to shop at bay, Eli and Nate exchanging a discreet brofist and giving thumbs up to Teddy for picking bikini season...

The guitarist smiled to himself now, all thoughts of mesmerising, chocolate eyes and a shy smile locked away in a chest somewhere deep in the tapered pieces of his heart.

With new energy and a grin for his friends, Teddy got up and stretched, prompting the rise of the rest of the assembly. All of them huddled together, heads bumping together as they gathered their strength for one last performance before the end of this extension to the tour.

"Alright guys, one more round of making people think we're gods, then it's beaches and bikinis and tequila shooters with pizza!" Tommy grinned, body already brimming and shivering with excitement, with anticipation at the screams of devoted fans awaiting them.

"Make it beer and we got a deal. You know what to do guys, I love you all and don't fuck up, I'll kill you," Eli gave a snort at Nate's words, before the four of them chanted the first line of the single song that brought them here, a mantra and ritual they'd never broken.

We never cry for love, we're superheroes, we are back where we belong.

Then they stepped away and headed for the stage, it was time to make the fans willing slaves to their music, time to scream their souls out just once more.

*  
Sweat was pouring over his forehead and he tried his best to flick his hair away from his eyes. This show was way too long for the end of a tour, the exhaustion was bound to show in their play sometime soon.

Tommy was doing his thing, but there was less bounce to his motions, just as the usual thunder he expected from Eli didn't reverberate through him with the same power. Everyone had off days, right, even famous rock bands. Just two more songs, one encore, no more, and they'd be free of any stress for a while. Teddy thought of his idea and the planned vacation. Obviously, they'd take Kate and Cassie, maybe even their abused manager...and then, he'd definitely ask them to stay at his home, the house his mom left him. The house he was terrified of staying in alone, but wanted nothing more than to share with his chosen family.

The rhythm slowed, Eli's pace guiding the song to an end. The crowd was entirely oblivious to their lacklustre energy tonight, they swayed and roared like a single being in constant ecstasy. As long as they were happy, the Young Avengers did a good fucking job.

A short respite as Tommy goaded the hungry beast into even more efforts to be heard, teasing and taunting for the last requests, though everyone was well aware with which song they'd finish. Superheroes, of course. Another YA tradition.

Nate's fingers strummed the next song into life and Teddy let himself fall back into his work. Music was his life and he enjoyed every moment, but it was still work.  
The riff sounded off to him, but not one of his friends looked at him strangely, so it was probably just his exertion. One more Ted, man, keep it together.

The crowd rustled, shifted, shuddered into movement once more. Not surprisingly, this song, Victim, was one of those open invitations for moshpits and the people near the front usually surged into those with some enthusiasm. And a certain measure of alcohol too.

Someone was climbing towards the stage, someone agitated and clearly desperate to crowd-surf, a pale young man with a shock of dyed hair and highlights, looking slightly insane with the static energy of the room.

Tommy and Nate, closest to the front, kept an eye on the short wrestle the security had with the young man, then the lead singer gave the nearest guard a little nod to let the poor kid have his moment of glory and the men let him go.

The fan approached Tommy, as one might stride up to mount Olympus with Zeus sitting on a cloud and watching.

Teddy launched into a solo, eyes half-closed, no longer keeping up with the events on stage, sinking into his own world of notes, frets and his own emotions. Music could help him forget everything, music could help him forget Bi-

It split through the hall like a flash of lightning, like a whiplash of noise so ugly and foreign it frightened the world to a halt.

The drums crashed to a stop, Tommy's voice swallowed his words, Teddy's fingers stilled over the strings and the amplifiers whined loudly. And Nate hit the ground with the single, dullest thump Teddy had ever heard in his life.

And then, all hell broke loose as everyone began screaming in a very different manner than seconds before. There was terror in the crowd now, a flurry of motion on the stage. Tommy, throwing away the mic, crumpling down over Nate's fallen form, Eli scrambling out from behind his set, the security trying to herd the crowd like terrified sheep whilst three of them flattened the young pale fan from before the ground, dragging him out of sight. Noh's frantic voice, bellowing for someone to call an ambulance whilst pressing his own phone to his ear.

Teddy felt numb, what the hell was going on?! He could barely see his friends anymore as someone hustled him from the stage, delivering him to the dressing room, shortly followed by Eli and Tommy.  
Jesus Christ, Tommy.

Silver-white hair was matted with crimson, his hands were bathed in the same liquid, and his face...well, shocked didn't even begin to cover it. The lead-singer was ashen and silent, eyes wide as he sat where he'd been left. No one spoke. Teddy didn't know what was happening, Nate had collapsed, why was Tommy covered in blood, what the fuck had spooked the crowd, and why...

His mind had all the answers, but he refused to acknowledge any of them. Kate and Cassie were delivered to the same room, the blonde taking one look at Tommy before she burst into the bathroom to empty her stomach, Kate following behind to...do whatever she could to help.

"What the fuck just happened?" Teddy whispered into the taut silence, levelling his gaze at Eli, the only one who didn't look as if he'd just witnessed...No, he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. He felt nausea rise up in him and as soon as Eli returned his glance, he didn't want to know the answers.

They sat there for what felt like an eternity and the rush of motion and voices outside took just as long to subside. When the door finally opened, it was Noh-Varr, a tired, utterly dishevelled looking Noh-Varr. Teddy had never seen the man look that afflicted, by anything. The nausea bubbled at the back of Ted's throat and his mind silently pieced the sudden noise, the panicked crowd, the strange kid on stage and the blood all over Tommy together with the absence of their bass-player. Suddenly, he didn't want Noh-Varr to speak at all.

Every single eye but Tommy's turned to Noh now, but the manager didn't even have the strength to lift his head, to present himself to them as anything than utterly done right now. His glance to Tommy's bloody hands seemed to prompt the same, distinctly ashen and nauseous look on his face as the rest of the band already bore.

He opened his mouth, voice cracked and quiet as he spoke.

"...The...ambulance was too late. He's gone... Nate's dead."


	8. November Rain

"...And in a terrible tragedy, a young musician with a promising career, Nathaniel Richards, lost his life last Saturday when a crazed man reached the stage and shot the bassist at point blank range. More on this..."

Billy turned the station over to something else, he didn't care if it was Animal Planet or some sports or static. He couldn't hear about the horror of the last week again. The first Young Avenger concert he hadn't attended and the last the band would ever have in its original line-up.

He felt sick. Original lineup felt so cold, as if they were pieces to exchange. Billy knew Nate. He knew all of them. And just the thought of what had befallen this group of people he still adored...it turned his stomach.

The urge to call Teddy had never been stronger, but he knew he had no right to do that anymore. No, he wouldn't be able to offer comfort, to apologize for his horrible actions, for the fact he couldn't be there when he was sure Teddy could definitely use a hug or a thousand.  
Billy forfeited his right to be beside the guitarist the moment he'd signed away that goddamn article, the bleakest and most shameful memory of his life.

But none of that mattered now. He was as distant from the band as he'd been before he ever met them. Maybe even more, because his presence was no longer the pleasant background of devoted fans, but rather the poignant air of an enemy.

Fuck, this wasn't even about him, how could he be such a selfish dick and think any of them wasted a thought on Billy Kaplan anymore?

Nate was dead. Shot by a lunatic who lost his girlfriend to the love of this band, apparently. What a ludicrous reason to take a life. Billy couldn't even begin to comprehend how a person...a beast like that functioned. To destroy something millions of people loved, to take someone's life as if it meant nothing.

At only 22, Nate Richards had lost his life to one idiot with a gun.

Life didn't seem all that different for Billy though. It might sound cold, almost removed, but the truth of it all was that he didn't allow himself to the same, slavish dedication he'd held for the Young Avengers anymore. He didn't deserve to love them the same way as everyone else, not after that slanderous article.

He wanted to do nothing more than be there. Not because he was some tremendous, horrible slut for attention who'd latch onto people in the most awful of situations claiming sympathy to their pain. No, he wanted to be there for people he'd considered friends until his own hand betrayed them. The best friends he'd ever had in his short life.  
Billy wondered how they were all dealing with this immeasurable loss, how they could possibly go on with their lives when someone had been plucked out of their midst. Billy never had to deal with death so personally, he'd always been fortunate, his family tended to lead long, prosperous lives. And friends? Apart from his employer, an elderly fellow who owned the comic book store that had taken him on recently, Billy didn't really have any.

Except for this phenomenal bunch of people he worshipped. He missed them all so badly, missed the easy, fun atmosphere around them, a world where nothing was more important than enjoying life together.

But there was no return to that now. Not for him, not for them. If only he could take their misfortune, their tragedy into his life, he'd gladly sacrifice his own existence for them. But life wasn't fair, life took and gave however the hell it pleased and it had struck with the force of Thor's hammer right into the heart of a group of young people who couldn't have deserved it less.

Billy couldn't just sit here and keep thinking about all of this. No, he needed to do something, for himself and for them, or at least, the one he'd gotten to know so intimately well.

Picking up the pen and paper felt odd after such a long time writing only on a keyboard, but there was something relaxing, soothing even about the feel of the age-old instrument of words in his fingers. Writing down his feelings was much easier than keeping them in his head, in his aching heart. He bled himself out over the page, the flow of ink releasing him from the turbulent coil of horrors and nightmares he'd wound so tightly into himself. He didn't know if it would help, hell, he didn't even know if the one he was writing to would even read it, would find any comfort in knowing someone out there in the world shared his deep pain and offered his soul in retribution.

Billy still had a stack of brown envelopes, pre-addressed to the guitarist hidden in one of the drawers of his desk.

He never did get around to telling Teddy who wrote those mysterious letters.

Funerals were definitely one of the things he hated having to attend to most. The material of the suit felt like an anchor, but not a pleasant connection to reality, more of an endless weight dragging him down into the depths of despair. He still felt utterly numb, unable to believe they were burying Nate...  
Nobody had coped well with their loss. The band...no, they didn't even say that word anymore, band indicated four people, four friends, living, breathing friends who could laugh and see each other.

Teddy learned to control his urge to be sick every time he thought of Nate collapsing on stage, Tommy's blood-covered hands, the uncomprehending shock on all of their faces that night. Cassie's heart-wrenching sobbing, her empty eyes, robbed of all the light, beauty and sparkle she'd had since the moment they met her.

It was hard on all of them and even though they'd all sworn to be close and be there for each other, no one was coping. Tommy worst of all. Not a day had gone by with the lead-singer sober or clean...The first time had been the worst, seeing Tommy so out of his mind, out of control...

Even now, there was no way he wasn't stoned on something. But obviously, it wasn't working the way he wanted it to, because his bedraggled frame shook with silent sobbing as they watched the coffin, lowered into the six foot deep hole. The sky above them dulled to an oppressive grey, threatening rain at any moment. It would have been a fitting atmosphere and honestly, Teddy would have preferred the pounding rhythm of raindrops hitting every surface around him, he would have lifted his head to the downpour, would have let the water disguise tears he'd already shed too manifold.

The ceremony was small, private. No priests, no pompous ritual or forced speeches. Nate wouldn't have wanted all that shit. Nate would have...

Nate should never have been taken from them, especially not this early on in his life.

Fucking hell. He was really gone. Teddy didn't know how he was managing not to cry, but the tears were definitely there, waiting to be shed at the opportune moment. Any moment really.

But Cassie was crying hard enough for all of them.

Eli just finished his little speech, there wasn't much to say and yet, the few words were plentiful in meaning. Nate had been their friend, their buddy, their bandmate and to think he was really gone was just unimaginably painful. And cruel. Oh so fucking cruel.

The small delegation seemed to disperse slightly. Cassie was sobbing hard again and the sound of it echoed in all of them. Teddy wanted to sob his heart out too, he didn't want all of this shit in his life, didn't want to think the happy, brief time as the Young Avengers was over.  
But it was. One idiot with a gun, one pulled trigger and one bullet had ended everything Teddy loved.

Rising voices pulled him out of his own misery to look off to one side, where Tommy stood, with their manager close, one hand raised as if to hold the singer's shoulder. A comforting touch, clear to anyone who saw. And there was no doubt the singer needed it, so frail, and still as pale as he had been that fateful night backstage. The blood was gone, long-gone, but its presence had left deep scars on Tommy's entire being.  
Tommy jerked his body away hastily, raising his head to give Noh-Varr a devastating glare. The manager watched, cautious, completely unprepared for the assault of Tommy's voice, snapping at him.

"Don't fucking touch me. This...this is all your fault!"

Teddy could see the pain those words struck into Noh mirrored in his icy blue eyes and he knew, he already knew, he should step in. Should stop Tommy from saying any more, because the older man was just as devastated as all of them. Noh was part of their family, the grumpy father figure of sorts, the one that made everything crazy they did work and negotiated for their lives to be nothing but comfortable. He didn't deserve this and yet, Teddy felt paralyzed, too much of the world on his shoulders to be capable of taking on one more weight. This one would just have to play out, he was too tired to save his friends from the misery they were undoubtedly about to cause one another.

"I didn't...if I could have done something, I would have, Tommy I couldn't have known that crazy kid would-"

"Shut up! Of course you could have done something! You're our manager! You're supposed to take care of us, make sure nothing happens, make sure we can keep doing what we do and now we can't because Nate is DEAD you asshole!"

It wasn't fair, none of those things were true, Noh-Varr really couldn't have done anything because everything happened so suddenly. The pain on the manager's face deepened infinitely as his eyes clung to Tommy, hoping, praying for a respite, for the young man to come to his senses and realize what he was saying, would understand how deeply he was cutting into the man he shared more than just a familial bond with.

His hopes would go unanswered as Tommy clenched his hand into a fist, colliding it with Noh's broad shoulder as if he could make everything revert, change the course of history if he just yelled at the man long enough. His fights with Noh, they were what always got him out of every bad mood, every bad situation, everything he ever fucked up, the manager would fix. Why couldn't he fix this?!

"Tommy, I'm sorry, I couldn't-"

"Shut the fuck up! That's all you ever do! Talk! You wanna talk now asshole?! You gonna talk Nate back to life?! You're fucking useless Noh-Varr, what kind of shitty manager doesn't make security check the fucking audience for fucking guns?! I trusted you, we all fucking trusted you and now he's gone! This is your fault and nothing you say is gonna bring him back! How dare you even fucking show up here?!"

There were tears in Tommy's eyes, but the fury in his emerald gaze didn't lessen one quarter, he just seemed to focus all his rage, grief and pain on Noh. He'd always been the receptacle for Tommy's outbursts, but this one would definitely burst the barrel. Even Noh-Varr couldn't handle this mood of the singer.

"If there's anything I could have done..."

"Yeah, could have. You could have taken that bullet, fuck, you could have done your useless motherfucking job. Well you know what, Noh-Varr?! We're not gonna need your services anymore, you're fucking fired, get out of my face, I don't ever want to see your mug again! Fuck you!"

Tommy stormed off, leaving a thunderstruck Noh behind.

Teddy could practically see the disaster click into place and for one, intense second, he thought the manager, or, rather, ex-manager, would follow Tommy, as he always did, and straighten this out. That Noh would go, take care of Tommy, hell, even punch him in the face, break each other's hands, collapse into a broken, sobbing mess, but ultimately, take care of Tommy. No matter how hard the other's words struck him down, Noh was always so indestructible.

But not this time.  
The guitarist made a motion, he had to talk to the man, had to refute what Tommy spat so angrily, but there was a hand on his shoulder. Eli shook his head slowly, keeping Teddy glued to the spot as Noh-Varr disappeared from sight in the opposite direction their lead-singer had taken, wordlessly got into a car and drove away through the endless sheets of rain the grey sky cursed them with.

Everything was falling apart. Teddy let his gaze drift back to the fresh grave. Jesus Christ, Nate had been gone a week, and everything was over. How the hell were they supposed to carry on now?

"Where's Cassie? Kate?" he tried to take comfort in Eli's presence, but the drummer didn't look any better off than he himself did. Actually, if possible, Eli looked worse, the utter misery in his gaze enough for Teddy's stomach to bottom out. He clamped a hand to his lips, determined not to vomit in the graveyard they'd just buried one of his best friends in.

"Gone. Cass left during the...speeches. Kate went with her."

The way he said that sounded as if the two girls had boarded a plane to the Arctic or somewhere similarly remote. And on a one-way ticket too.

"Fuck. What the hell do we do now?"

If anyone held the answer to that question, Teddy would sell the shirt on his back for them to speak right now.

The only sound the world dared to make was the endless pounding of raindrops on the ground.


	9. Californication

It started with Speed.

Teddy didn't think to stop Tommy from what he chose to do with himself. They were all grieving, in their own way. No one questioned him if he was alright. Actually, for how close they all were before, it was pretty horrific how dead the lines between them were now.

No one talked, no one called, everyone sunk into their own hell with nothing and no one holding them together. Noh-Varr's absence was just more salt in the gaping wound. At least the manager had tried to keep them alive, had tried to stop them from all drifting apart, from breaking the one thing they all loved so much about this life. The band was done, had been the second that madman pulled the trigger on Nate on stage.

But at least, they'd tried to stick together for the past weeks. Not with words of comfort, but sheer presence, with Noh at their backs, keeping the media away, something they all should have thanked him for before Tommy's outburst.

Tommy.

All of them, Eli, Teddy, Kate and Cassie had their own, complicated coping mechanisms, but Tommy was hit hardest by all of this. Whereas the girls had disappeared from the radar with an apologetic plea for solitude, Tommy had gone off the rails after he fired Noh-Varr. With no one to regulate his finances or his sanity, the lead-singer sought solace in being out of his mind on whatever he could get his hands onto.

And with his money, that was a lot.

Before Nate's funeral, Teddy never paid attention, knew their overworked, exhausted manager was a very firm wall between Tommy and unlimited access to the band's funds, but now? The young man ran free and excessively wild on his mission to lose all cognitive function.

Teddy had tried to talk to him the first day he found suspicious white powder on the kitchen counter, but Tommy had flipped him off and waltzed out of the door. The guitarist had given up right there, just tried to keep Tommy in the house when he was high instead of letting him get into trouble.

But Teddy never did have Noh's endless patience for dealing with Tommy, much less a grieving, half insane one. Another burden on the blond's back, another failure in line with his many. Tommy was his best friend and Teddy could not even stop him from hurting himself, from buying more of the illegal shit he used to drown the pain.

"Excuse me, Mr. Altman, but the director would like to speak to you privately," the mousy voice of the bank employee pulled Teddy from his miserable thoughts and he indulged her with a suffering look. This better not be another well-meaning person wishing to give him personal condolences for Nate's death. He couldn't take all these superficial assholes, people who never knew Nate, never understood the close-knit family he'd grown to love more than anything else in his life. His safety net, his friends, the ones that could help him through anything, the ones that carried him through his mother's death, his failure in college, everything he'd ever done wrong in his young existence.

They were gone, ripped apart, fallen to pieces and these people didn't understand a fraction of that pain. Smiling and showing gratitude for their hollow words was a weight too great for his shoulders to bear.

"Right this way," again, the mousy lady spoke to him, this time leading the way into an office. It was a nice office, exactly how you imagined a bank director to work. Or rather, not work. It would have been flooded with sunlight, but the large windows only showed the dreary sky, laden with ill promise of more rain and misery. Teddy long since tried to forego the notion that the world was grieving with him. The world was cruel and unkind and undoubtedly a bitch.

"Mr. Altman, please take a seat. My sincerest condolences for your loss...would you like a drink? A cognac perhaps?"

Teddy gave a mute shake of his head. Things were never about to be pleasant when rich, old, fat white men offered you alcohol and a seat. The shit was going to hit the fan, the only question being, what shit was left to throw at his proverbial fan?

*  
Late afternoon, the clouds parted for a few shafts of sunlight to befall the city, drafts of wind warning against any would-be revellers of this brief, shining respite. Something like the calm before a storm.

Teddy had no more thoughts to waste on the weather, or the world in general. He couldn't get his head away from what he'd just been told, from the glaring red numbers of his account. Never in a million years had he thought that he...

He shook his head, shivering as another gust of wind sluiced right through his thin leather jacket, chased a chill up his spine that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the fact he had nothing left.

Literally nothing, because, as previously stated, life was a bitch. And out to fuck him over in any and every possible way.

He just never thought it would be him to do this of all people. The one he'd been relying on to keep a level head on his shoulders, the friend he could go to maybe, the one to share the immense burden.

Eli.

How could he have done this?

The drummer was just as upset about Nate as everyone else and sure, Kate leaving with Cassie without so much as a goodbye didn't help matters one bit, but it was Eli. Eli who had been through hell and back with his family, Eli who could possibly actually be a superhero in disguise, down to earth Eli.

And exactly that boy, young man, idiot, had done what no one, least of all Teddy thought him capable of.

The band's funds had always been divided between their accounts and one central one, a sort of 'saver' account, one they all agreed not to touch until their existence was threatened, in case they really only had a short shelf life or decided to do something besides music with their lives.

Teddy remembered all of them laughing at the thought, no one imagining a time they'd want to give all of what they had up for an ordinary life without crazy antics, insane fans and the weirdest tours and gigs.

And right now? Teddy would give all the money he once had to have a perfectly normal life, one where he maybe even worked a shitty job and could only practice music in his spare time, if it would bring his friends back together and Nate back from the dead. Fuck success and fame, it was never about any of that for the guitarist. For all of them, he figured at the beginning. But they'd begun to rely on it. Rely on being something special, something exempt from life's tragedy because hell, they were living a dream. They were famous and beloved, immortal gods of their generation.

Oh how easily gods fell from grace. How easy their immortality was desecrated, how quickly the reverence once held for them by millions dissipated into nothing but pity and regret.

So, even Eli, the only one Teddy thought still held a tight grip on his own mind, deserted them. Deserted him. Eli had taken everything in that one account, the savings, the only backup Teddy still had to support himself, his life, and that of Tommy. Eli had access, they all did. But he emptied it. Emptied the vault, even, and disappeared. Whatever the fuck was going on in the drummer's life didn't justify this.

Or maybe Teddy wouldn't even have cared, if his own account wasn't empty as well. His own stash, so well spared, never splurged on excesses, entirely gone. Because he'd been an idiot, because he trusted someone determined to destroy every single one of his brain-cells so he wouldn't have to bear the weight of his grief.

Everything was better in hindsight. Hindsight was a sickeningly smug little voice that applauded Teddy's naive trust and stupidity, the idiotic idea that no, Tommy would never touch his money to fund his sick habits. Wrong again Altman, but you should be used to life fucking you over. Too precious and dumb for this world indeed.

So this was definitely it. He was broke, he was alone with no one to help him deal with Tommy, no one to help him deal with his own grief, no one to even fucking pat him on the shoulder and genuinely express sorrow for Nate's death.  
Teddy passed by a small diner, one of those typical 'American' ones, the kind he loved to go to with his chosen family, the kind he would have taken Billy on dates to.

Billy. The pain of his betrayal was nothing but a muted, dull throb by now, there was too much gone wrong in Teddy's life, he had no energy to regret his misjudgement of character. Right now, he just wanted Billy's company, didn't care if he'd sold them out and fucked them over, that life was done anyway. Right now, he just wanted to lose himself in deep brown eyes and the most beautiful smile he could remember aside from his mother's. He wanted someone to hold onto him, keep him here, give him reason to keep going, keep being strong.

Instead of slim hands and a soothing voice by his side, the cold wind howled around the corners of the buildings, the neon sign of the diner buzzing with fatigue.

Teddy pushed the door open. He had twenty bucks and fifty cents to his name and nothing waiting for him anywhere on the planet. He was going to have a damn burger and shake, maybe even some pie and tomorrow could go screw itself.

*

It was his fault.

No one said so, but they didn't have to, he knew. It was his fault, his blood on his hands and nothing anyone never said would change the fact.

Tommy listened to the silence of the house. It was never entirely without noise though, there was always some sound, the tick of something electric, the soft howling of the window around the abused bricks of the old building, the creak of wood suffering in a still world that abhorred the sound of the living.

Teddy had gone out, hadn't told Tommy where to or when he'd be back. They hadn't exchanged a word in days and the former singer didn't care. Teddy tried, of course he did, the big, soft idiot.

But he didn't understand. No one did. Why tell any of them a damn thing? He didn't need therapy or shoulders to cry on, he needed someone to punish him for this. The guilt was an all-consuming black hole in his chest and nothing could close it. Nothing but the sweet relief of being out of his mind.

No one understood that. He didn't expect Teddy or Eli to, the girls were never close enough to him to be told of all the shitty insecurities that made up such an integrated part of the fucked up individual known as Tommy Shepherd.

There was just one person he figured saw right through all of his bullshit. One person who could have pried Tommy out of his self-inflicted hell for long enough to maybe slap sense into him.

He missed Noh-Varr. But it was good that the manager was gone. What they had was too close to attachment beyond friendship, something that, though he'd never admit it, scared the living shit out of Tommy.  
He'd seen how commitment played out in the long run. Had seen his adoptive mother cry, shiver in the kitchen as the man she'd promised herself to leered a threat and promise in one across the table. Back then, his eight year old self had come to the decision that letting people in was dangerous, would only lead to pain and betrayal.

But this wasn't about getting away from Noh-Varr before the thing between them could turn into more than a denied affair of temper and lust.

This was about Nate and the fact that Tommy Shepherd wasn't capable of doing anything right. Nate had been his friend, and now he was dead, because of Tommy.

If only the bass player hadn't moved in front of him. Why the hell would he do that?! The guy, the fucking crazy kid, he'd been aiming at Tommy, aiming for his life. And taken Nate's instead.

The shot haunted Tommy's dreams, the blood on his fingers a permanent stain. The last breath seeping out of Nate in his arms, his friend's last moment of life, wasted on Tommy.

He wasn't going to sob. No, not today. He had one shot of this, literally, because Teddy's accounts were empty, there weren't any chances to try this again. And Teddy himself was out of the house, though he didn't know for how long. Teddy couldn't stop him now.

Tommy wasn't scared of what was to come. He couldn't deal with his situation any more, couldn't burden his best friend with himself anymore. He'd fucked everything up. Gotten Nate killed. Disappointed his friends, denied their help. Parted ways with the one person he'd ever felt capable of being close to, the only one he ever wanted to share himself with. What the hell would hold him back now?

It would just take one shot, one brief sting of pain as the needle would glide into his skin, into his vein, then the few seconds before his blissful nirvana, before he could forget his bloodstained skin, the burning wreckage of his life, the worn husk he'd become. Just one more moment before it would all be better.

*  
The wind had picked up when he exited the diner. There was the distinct scent of rain in the air and Teddy scoffed. As if a month with little to no sunshine wasn't enough. At least the weather could try not to be such a dick, if no one else was up to the challenge.

He balled his fingers into fists in his pockets, shrugging his jacket tighter to his skin, ducking his head to be less of a target for any sudden bursts of rain.

Teddy was thoroughly chilled by the time he reached his house in the growing darkness of dusk, the street oddly empty even of cars, his home dark and cold. No one had turned on any lights, or the heating. So Tommy must have gone out to spend the last of his money.

How could it get any worse? They hit rock bottom with a resounding crash, but that couldn't be the end of it. If nothing else, this house reminded Teddy of what he'd promised his mother often enough. To make his mother proud, to live his life no matter what.

Over his meal in the diner, he'd at least reached the conclusion that Tommy needed professional help, whether he agreed or not. And Teddy would find a job. McDonalds, Burger King, Walmart, he didn't care. Anything that would keep him over water. Life for the sake of living, right?

As he turned the key in the door, he wondered why Tommy hadn't bothered to lock up behind himself. No matter how pissy the snowy haired trouble was, he did remember that their neighbourhood wasn't the sunniest of places.

Maybe Tommy hadn't gone out, just fallen asleep after his escapades last night?

"Tommy? Hey, idiot, you could have turned up the heating, it's freezing in here!" Teddy didn't know if he was talking to himself, the floorboards that definitely needed some cleaning, or the stubborn, unresponsive young man he called his best friend.

"Tommy, seriously, what are you, a sloth? Who sleeps at five in the afternoon?"

He'd reached his friend's room and spotted a familiar shape on the bed. So the ex-singer was moping again? Huh, very mature. Teddy was so tired of dealing with Tommy's excessive mood swings. He flicked on the light and froze right there in the doorway.

Tommy's eyes were open, but only to drooping, tired slits. His lips were blue-ish, he'd thrown up on the bed and not cared to move from the stinking mess, his chest entirely too still. Teddy didn't see him draw a single breath in the stupefied three minutes he stared at his best friend.

"TOMMY!"


	10. Echo

He shouldn't feel bad. About anything. He'd done the right thing, there was no shame in walking away now, none whatsoever.

So why the hell did he feel like an absolute lowlife as pulled the door shut?

Teddy paused for a long moment in the hospital hallway. The only person he needed to convince that he was just doing the right thing was himself, frankly because there was no one left to care. The last person he could ever share his troubles with had just survived a suicidal attempt to overdose on fucking heroin.

Jesus, he couldn't deal with this anymore. Tommy was the last straw, the one that broke Teddy's back. The young man had been in here a week and for that length of time, Teddy had been so sure he was about to lose his best friend and any semblance of a life he had left.

Gone were the thoughts of getting a job, providing for their meager household, gone were the thoughts that it could, ever, get better than this. It wouldn't. Life existed purely to kick Teddy Altman's ass and the final goal of his total collapse had been reached.

On that day he found Tommy, as soon as he'd gotten into the ambulance, there was only person to call, one person he could still count on any kind of help on from.

He would never forget the look on Noh-Varr's face, the deeply troubled pain in his eyes behind that cold, hard expression. Without exchanging more than a sentence, the former manager took 'custody' of the overdosed idiot, relieving Teddy of the burden for now.

It's not like he wanted to be rid of Tommy, no, never, but what his best friend had done, attempted to do? It was just too fucking much. Teddy couldn't deal with this. They'd just lost Nate. Eli and the girls, scattered to the winds and Tommy went and did...that.

Unbelievable. The amount of wrong in his life was starting to get comical. You know, from an outside viewpoint that had the luxury of walking away from this major fuckery.

Unfortunately, Teddy didn't get to do that. He was stuck right here, this was his life and no matter how hard he wished or how many pennies he threw into a fountain, there was no escape. What Tommy had tried? Not an option. No matter how bad things got, Teddy could never try to take his life. He owed his mom at least that, even if he wasn't making good on any other promise he'd given her. Silently, at her funeral, because there hadn't been a chance to. God he didn't want to think of the day he'd lost her.

At least he could remember her as she was, a beautiful woman in her mid-thirties, much too young for a kid like him, a strong, loving single mother. He'd never met his dad, a soldier who was lost in some stupid war the country shouldn't even have been fighting in.

No, he wasn't going to think of his mom now. Not of losing her anyway. Her words would never leave him, would push him onwards in his life no matter how low he got.  
And this was the lowest point of his existence, he was pretty damn sure of it.

Tommy had been in the hospital three days so far. For three days, Teddy had been mulling over a decision. Something needed to change in his...in their lives. There was no money, no band, no safety deposit to resort to. There was nothing left. Or a new slate for a life he had no idea what to do with. All he'd ever wanted to be, he'd already lost. Music was his purpose, his friends his family.

And so, the young man made a decision. Other people might call it a dumb one, irrational, chaotic and just plain asking for disaster, but Teddy figured he honestly couldn't be hit by anything that made him care anymore.

Tommy was safe, even if he wasn't okay, he was safe. Noh-Varr wouldn't leave his side. In some ways, Teddy was jealous. He hated himself even allowing that glimpse of an emotion, especially because Tommy was his friend and in a terrible state, but there was nothing he craved more sorely than someone who would return to his side, no matter what horrible things he'd done or said.

Tommy was safe and he didn't need Teddy to heal. He had his former manager for that and right now, the guitarist was only too easily tempted to unload entirely onto Noh's shoulders. So he'd handed over the keys to his house after a last visit home, told him to use it once Tommy felt better so it wouldn't be empty, wished him his honest, most sincere wishes for Tommy's recovery and whatever else needed fixing between them. Then he'd taken his things, guitar in case, a duffel bag full of clothes, the last of his money and stupidly enough, his toothbrush.

He had no idea what he was doing, where he was going and when he'd stop feeling like a wandering hull of someone once complete, now irrevocably spent. Maybe he'd sleep on a benh and wake up in a dumpster, or an alley, in god knows what state...

He just didn't care anymore.

Teddy rode around in circles, took the subway, got off with the flow of people, got turned around in the street, swept away in a crowd of strangers. Strangers with perfect, broken lives. His mind was a tattered vortex of emotions, numbed and dulled by the pain of the recent events.

Why was he doing this? This wasn't some idiotic vision quest, or one of those soul-searching crusades of individuality. Teddy Altman was existing for the sheer sake of it and he found absolutely nothing that could make him see a future, no bright star on his horizon.

It was well past nightfall when he finally decided he needed a place to warm up, or at least somewhere light and friendly.  
This street, he had no memory of how he'd gotten to it, but it was rather quiet, full of shops with dark windows, some of them boarded up. Among them though, about a quarter mile down the lonely road, there was one that shone with the employee's burden of long hours and the employer's desolate hope for customers.

It was a comic book shop, judging from the figurines in the windows and the racks of colourful covers in neat racks on the shelves. Teddy had hoped for coffee or food of some sort, but this was fine.

As he approached the warmly lit store, he noticed the small sign in the window. Written in a surprisingly messy and familiar scrawl, the words 'Help Wanted' sprang to Teddy's eye.

Work in a comic book store? Sounded like exactly the kind of shell he could use in his new hermit lifestyle.

With the tiniest glimmer of hope, he pushed open the door, almost attempting a smile at the soft, familiar chime of a Star Trek door sliding apart. Truly geek-owned shops were always his favourite.

There wasn't anyone behind the counter, but the soft, familiar scent of instant noodles and coffee was wafting from a small room behind it. The small door that lead there was plastered with articles of geeky goodness and Teddy felt his eyes roam the entire interior of this shop. This could be fate, because hell, if he had to work retail, this would be just about his dream environment.

"One second, emergency rations are proving problematic!"

The voice was the last of the signs he needed to feel utterly uncomfortable, as if he should know exactly what was going on here. But he still had no idea where he was or if he'd been here before. God, he hoped he wasn't suffering trauma-induced amnesia.

"Take your time, I know how troublesome ramen noodles can be."

There was a clutter and the crash of cutlery hitting a tiled floor along with a rushed curse.

And then a face appeared in the door, a face framed with dark, messy hair and accentuated by wide, deeply chocolate-brown eyes.

"...Teddy?" he breathed the name as if it was a prayer offered up to some long forgotten, merciful deity.

And he was pretty sure that deity was laughing at both of them right now as it pulled at his jaw, forcing his lips apart to utter a name he'd long since forgotten the sweet taste of.

"Billy?!"

Noh-Varr twisted and turned, but try as he might, there was no comfort to be found. He'd started sleeping here days ago, after the first night Tommy woke up screaming. Noh had come running to his side afraid of what could have happened. The young man clung to him, shivered in his arms, sobbed silently, held entirely too still for comfort...

Ever since that night, he crammed himself into the bed besides Tommy. Sometimes, he felt a slight weight dip the mattress and Tommy curled against him. Whether for comfort or simply some living presence, Noh couldn't distinguish. Nothing was easy to distinguish anymore.

The moment Tommy was at the hospital and stable, Teddy handed Noh the keys to his house and told him that he couldn't do this anymore. The blond disappeared with his guitar case on his back and his bags packed. Tommy's best friend had left him. No one heard from Eli..

Teddy never said anything about someone taking care of Tommy, but something in his gaze told Noh that the blond knew far more than he ever let on and that he already carried that role. His 'torch' for Tommy was a well known secret. Not that it mattered anymore, few things did.

The Young Avengers were through. Noh-Varr knew that better than anyone else beside the band. And still, what he cared for most...Tommy. Tommy was so beyond broken, Noh wanted to puke. Or cry. Or punch the living shit out of someone. Maybe all three.

Tommy had been released from the hospital just three weeks ago. Three agonizing, endless weeks.  
The man was a mere shadow of himself. At just eighteen, Tommy Shepherd was an absolute wreck, a burnout. Rehab, however brief his stay, made him thin, but his soul and spirit were broken the moment that madman pulled the trigger on Nate.

Tommy was the one with the bassist's blood all over him. Tommy was the one the lunatic had aimed for. Tommy was the one who couldn't handle what happened and fell into an abyss. And Tommy was the one left with nothing, absolutely nothing. No friends, no family, not even some remote love interest he could vaguely remember.

Actually, Tommy could barely remember what exactly happened ever since...Nate. Sometimes he even spoke as if it never happened. And Noh-Varr listened, he took it all and tried to bear it, because the ex-singer clearly lost his mind.

Noh tried his best, but he was so tired after three weeks. Tommy barely ate and he talked as if he existed in a strange haze, a diluted version of the past, of the 'good' old days. He looked right through Noh-Varr, as if he didn't exist in Tommy's perfect world.

The former manager didn't know what hurt more; seeing Tommy so completely empty, a mere shadow of his real self, or the fact that he himself was gone from his life. When Tommy fired him, which felt half a lifetime ago, Noh-Varr was angry. Unbelievably angry. So angry he left the struggling singer behind when he needed him most.

And that was Noh-Varr's greatest mistake and regret. Leaving Tommy when he should have stayed.

He glanced over to the still form beside him. Tommy was still awake, dull eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling.

"It's raining."

Noh-Varr sighed, watching Tommy's motionless expression as he continued to gaze at the empty ceiling, listening to the pitter patter of raindrops outside..

"Yes, it is."

"Can we go outside?"

"Why would you want to go outside?" Noh-Varr knew what Tommy would say. This dialogue, this scene, had played itself out the last four nights in a row and the ex-manager cursed the weather.

"I wanna see Nate and Eli and Teddy."

Tommy's voice was laced with desperation and teetered on the edge of childish sadness. It wasn't a whine, it was a plea. But for what, didn't bear thinking about. Tommy wasn't suffering from amnesia, he knew that Nate was gone and Teddy no longer wanted to see him. Well, he didn't know the last detail, but considering this was Teddy's house and the blond no longer resided here would have given him clue enough. Teddy had been so very clear on that fact when he called to ask how Tommy was doing.

"You can't, Tommy. You know that. They're...gone. No one's left."

Tommy's eyes shimmered, but no tears made their way over his haggard face. Noh-Varr wished the young man would eat, would at least try to not look as if he'd been through an awful stage of his life. But Noh-Varr's peace of mind was of no concern to the wreck of a person he laid next to.

"You're here. Why are you here?"

"Because I won't leave you. Someone has to take care of you."

The still form suddenly shifted, curled to the side, Tommy's thin fingers gripping Noh's shirt tightly as he buried his face in the elder's chest.

"You care about me?"

Noh wrapped an arm around the frail body that once contained so much wild, fiery energy. It was more than sobering to feel Tommy's spine, so clearly defined even beneath the cotton pyjamas he spent most of his time in. Noh felt trapped here by that desperate grip of his shirt, as if Tommy's every pain and ache held him chained to his side.

"More than you know, Tommy," the knuckles of those slim fingers turned white and Tommy pushed his head harder against Noh's chest, as if he wanted to sink through the layers of cloth and skin and disappear into his sole companion.

"I miss Teddy. Where is he?" Tommy made no further indication that he'd even heard Noh-Varr's confession, he just stayed close to him, soaking up the warmth the other offered with quiet determination.

"Teddy moved out. I think he's looking for Billy. Do you remember Billy?"

A solemn little nod against his chest.

"The enemy. Always knew Teddy was in love with him. Is Teddy okay?"

Another sigh elicited from Noh-Varr's lips, "I don't think so, but he's on the way. Teddy was very hurt by everything, Tommy. But he's gonna find...somebody. And they will help him. Just like I'm trying to help you."

"You're stupid."

Noh stilled the circling motions he'd begun to make on Tommy's back. It was a long time ago that Tommy actually managed to insult him. Actually, he could recall the last time with brightly burning indignation. The terrible day Tommy'd fired him, actually.

"Why am I stupid?"

"Because you didn't tell me. I knew, you know. I knew how you...what you felt. And now everyone's gone, but you came back. Will you stay? Don't go...Noh, don't go."

The lump in his throat was becoming a problem and Noh wrapped a second arm around Tommy, pressing his lips to the limp hair plastered on Tommy's forehead.

"I won't leave, Tommy. Never again."

Silence followed his promise, minutes ticking by, marked only by the continuous rhythm of raindrops on concrete.

"It's raining."

This time, Noh felt raindrops roll over his own cheeks. He should shut the window, it wouldn't do Tommy any good to get wet whilst he slept, right?

"You're crying."

"What?" Noh wiped over his face. Raindrops weren't warm...fuck. He'd sworn to himself not to break down in front of Tommy in his fragile mental state. A clammy, bony hand met his cheek and cradled it, thumb stroking slowly over the hot skin.

Tommy was looking at him. Noh felt his heart give a heavy thud. Tommy was looking at him, was seeing him and just for a long, lingering moment, he really looked as if he was all there behind that ivy gaze.

"Don't cry Noh-Varr. You look ugly when you do."

"Asshole," Noh muttered before he even thought about it, but Tommy didn't flinch. The ghost of a smile crawled across his lips and his face neared Noh-Varr's ever so slightly. But he didn't rise to eye-level with the older man, instead nestling his face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm your asshole though, right? You know that, right?"

If he wasn't already holding Tommy's thin body close, Noh would have crushed him into an embrace right now. The young man was already half on top of him anyway, but Noh held him there with an iron grip.

"You are. You're mine Tommy. I promise we're gonna get through this and I...I really l...still love you Tommy. I won't go away."

Another solemn nod, this time against Noh's neck and the silence was suddenly comfortable. Noh-Varr held his beloved wreck of a man close and Tommy let him, let the older be his blanket, his safety net, let him be what he never knew he needed.  
And it was alright. They would...do what Noh-Varr promised so selflessly. Everything would be alright, because Noh wasn't going away. They would get through this.


	11. Paradise City

"You can just go ahead and set that box down over there," he called to the open door at the back of the store, ignoring the cold gust of chilly autumn air rushing past him. His thin shirt fluttered slightly but it was nothing compared to the thud his heart gave before settling into a marathon at the sight of Teddy.

It had been three weeks since the young man strolled into his store by accident, three weeks since Billy thought his life, a settled affair, was going to be turned upside down once more. And his prediction that night had not been wrong. Teddy walked back into his life, ripped down the posters of depression and painted his entire world a bright golden colour.

Alright, maybe that was a slight exaggeration. They weren't living in a fairytale or a sitcom after all, there was no easy way to forget what had happened between them. And everything that went so horrifically wrong for the young man Billy admired so.

Much had changed for Teddy. Billy knew every detail open to the public, from the time and date of Nate's funeral to Tommy's catastrophic overdose...He remembered all of this through the relatively safe distance he had forced between himself and the group of people he still worshipped. And it had been terrifying, to see their lives fall apart, not just the band itself, but every single one of its members.

The damage life had wreaked upon these young souls was exemplified in Teddy.

The cheery, optimistic and easygoing man from the 'good' old days was gone and Billy had missed him sorely the first few days. Teddy was hurt, he was broken, he was done with the world that poured weight after weight onto his shoulders without caring for the widening cracks in his soul.

That first night, after a conversation that was both awkward and heartfelt, after Billy had finally gathered enough of his scarce courage to explain himself to Teddy, the former Young Avenger broke down. He cried, sobbed so hard Billy thought he might be choking.  
On the couch in the closed comic book store, Teddy broke down. And Billy had been so helpless, watching, holding him against his body, trying to offer a piece of his soul as glue to smooth over the wide open cracks in Teddy's.

He didn't know if he'd really done anything besides stroking Teddy's hair and repeating that he was here until the young man's desperate sobbing died down, until they were entangled on the couch in a mess of limbs and overburdened emotions.

Billy didn't know why he felt so incredibly responsible for Teddy that he offered him his apartment, the small, gritty one-room above the store, but there was no way he was going to let him go again. Not outside, not into the world that held nothing but cruelty for this entirely defeated being.

Billy wasn't some great, generous man, he didn't even donate what he could to charities, hell, he saved his pennies meticulously, always living in the fear he'd lose his job, or his parents would decide he needed even more independence. Billy didn't know about the world and its ways, but he knew what he had to do. He had to help Teddy, in any way he could. So those saved pennies, those hard-earned little bits of money he'd been saving by not actually buying the comics he wanted to read, the tips he earned from his part-time bar job on some odd weekends, went into the great big void that was Teddy's life.

The apartment was too small to share by far, but they got by on close space, could afford to feed both of them on Billy's meager earnings. And even if it was noodles most nights on the couch that had seen better days, even if they watched crappy TV and huddled beneath blankets to save on heating, it was something...great. Because they were doing it together.

And slowly, really, with the collective speed and determination of a glacier, Teddy was getting better. He smiled most days, still crashed in the evenings and especially when he had those nightmares that woke him with a scream and bathed in sweat. Though those were battled away by Billy's presence. At first, the ex-guitarist had slept on the couch, awkwardly insisting that it would do. But after days of quiet aches and grunts and a sleeping position that could only be anything but healthy, Billy insisted they share the bed.

Oh, the heat they'd shared on that tour so long ago was back with a fiery vengeance. For Billy, it had returned the moment he'd seen Teddy's face, though at that time, the guilt of what he'd done had shot down any uncanny fantasies of earning the blond's forgiveness.

Strangely enough though, he did exactly that. Teddy was so raw and open, he listened to Billy's side of the tale, understood that he never intended the article to imply any of those horrible things. Out of his hands, in the greedy grasp of an editor disinclined to the YA, it had become not a message of admiration and love, but a nightmare-ish affront to the young band.

Ever since Billy lost the weight across his shoulders and Teddy broke down his burden piece by piece, they were inseparable.

And eventually, Billy had convinced his aging employer to hire the convenient blond. One interview, over a cup of tea in the tiny back-room and the charismatic charmer had the position.

Which, in an entirely unbiased perspective, was perfect. Billy knew he was pretty selfish when it came to his fantasies, but this one was reality. Theodore, Ted, Teddy...he was around, just like the young man always dreamed of. And not as a star, but as a sombre constellation in Billy's life.

He worked with him in the store, cooked with him in the evening, went out and did...really small things like going to the cinema or to get fast food and catch some sort of show. And it was bedazzling. Teddy, even though he was definitely not the wonderfully self-secure and zen creature from before, was breathtaking. He took pleasure in the stupid normal stuff Billy saw no more than routine in.

And he found himself falling right back into that desperate love with Teddy. Actually, this one might even be much more, because now he had memories, he had opportunity and he had time. All the time in the world, a world which spun lazy circles around the brightly burning sun of Teddy Altman.

"I'm starting to think you lured me into this job because of my excellent musculature."

"Guilty as charged."

"I'll have you know I demand an especially creative pasta dinner in compensation."

Teddy straightened from where he'd been stacking boxes and sent Billy another one of those smiles, the ones that melted through any mood or logical thought that might have been occurring. Billy found himself surrendering to the 'punishment' immediately.

The shop wasn't particularly busy, the boxes contained mostly orders and back issues and so they'd be able to relax until the end of their shift anyway. Billy settled in at the counter, a beacon of content as he watched Teddy's back flex in the tiny back room, probably making some form of snack and hot beverages. It was quite amazing what kind of grazing routine had overcome both of them, especially on their tight budget. Still, these little luxuries meant the world to the blond ex-guitarist.

A normal life, no paparazzi, no fame, no money. Teddy was happy with that, happy to leave the dark burden of memories in a crevice of his mind. Billy was more than a band-aid, he was healing wounds he'd never experienced himself. Billy was perfect and Teddy regretted ever doubting his sincerity. Sure, the incriminating article still existed. But it no longer stood between them. It was just another tool in the hands of those that would revel in the destruction of young lives, those that would shoot the stars from the heavens if only they had guns big enough.

"Okay, we're closing up, time to pay my dues," Billy called from the front and Teddy grinned, entirely too pleased at the prospect of pasta with sauce, which could possibly contain some meat today.  
And the pun there should be left alone, thank you very much. Billy might have been healing Teddy's wounds with the patience of a saint or some sort of shaman, and they even shared a bed and some tender kisses, but sex wasn't really on the table just yet. Teddy didn't want to rush this, it was too important to be broken by an act of physical intimacy he didn't feel adequate for yet. Sex with Billy should be earned, and his free taste in halcyon days past was a lucky coincidence. But one that did not offer repetition. No, this time, when Teddy dared to cross that line once more, he was going to worship Billy the way he deserved it. Not a lust-filled night of taking without thought, it would be a tribute, a grateful promise of a future that could no longer be imagined without Billy at his side.

*

Cuddling on the couch and watching TV didn't really seem like a fantastically exciting activity in itself, but with Billy nestled to his side, thighs comfortably brushing against each other and slim fingers weaving between his own, Teddy couldn't really imagine anything he wanted more.

But the shrill ring of the telephone cut through the thick comfort of the scene and Teddy's grip on Billy's hand tightened involuntarily. Billy muttered a sentence of soothing nonsense and slipped from his embrace, taking the phone-call in the bathroom for privacy. It wasn't that he had anything to hide from Teddy, but there were some voices Teddy just didn't need to hear. Especially not when he was in this wonderfully relaxed mood as he was now. He returned after no time at all, which was a good sign.

"Who was it?" Teddy's voice had an odd twang to it, warmth heavy with worry. Phone calls were rare in their little household, Billy was pretty frugal with his number and the landlord preferred to show up in person.

Billy tensed, brushing aside the notion, nay, the possibility of lying. No secrets between them, that's how this thing worked now.

"It was Noh-Varr."

More tension across Teddy's previously relaxed face. His shoulders cramped in preparation for another burden to bear. But Billy would give him no such trouble.

"Tommy's really improving. He sassed Noh and hassled him into going back to work, says he's not an invalid that needs babysitting."

The strain bled out of Teddy's expression and Billy's heart soared to see a tender smile return.

"Sounds like him alright. Noh is so good for him, I'm...grateful life brought those two together. Tommy deserves to be loved unconditionally."

"So do you," Billy augmented softly, his gaze composing sonnets of his affection for Teddy. The guitarist flushed, a pastel touch of crimson dusting his cheeks.

"You're amazing, Billy Kaplan."

Billy was silent for just a moment, mind reeling with the compliment, the admission that someone actually could hold him in such high regards. And yet, Teddy was the amazing one, the incredible man who went through life's shit and came out smiling gently on the other side.

"I was thinking of changing my name to Amazo Kaplan, actually."

"And DC will hound your ass for eternity."

Even their humour came from the same comfort they shared with each other now and it was exhilarating to know this wouldn't pass. They wouldn't lose each other again.

"Well they'll have to get a ticket, my ass is too taken to be hounded."

"Your ass is T.A. property now, under Altman management."

Billy mirrored Teddy's grin and settled back onto the couch, fitting himself into the space at the blond's side, a space that the universe appeared to have carved out just for him.

"I have some complimentary fruit baskets for the management. You know, as congratulations on a job well done."

"Lobbyist. Your fruits of temptation don't exempt you from quality control."

"Corporate dictator."

"Dictator of Billy Kaplan's ass...ets. I like it, I think I've found my calling in life."

The banter ended with a pair of smiling mouths sealed in a firm, reassuring kiss. This was how everything between them had settled after all the dust of their lives. A comfortable sphere that existed only in the space shared between them, the thoughts they no longer needed to tell each other because they knew, they felt and appreciated each other on a level neither had found in another person before. Billy knew he abused the term 'perfect' far too often in connection to Teddy Altman, but for what it was worth, his life right now and here, wrapped in Teddy's arms, lips pushing to Teddy's and tongue teasing an eager little hum from a broad chest, was the pinnacle of perfection and he wouldn't change it for all the world had to offer.

*

"What did he say?"

Noh looked over to the young man slouching on the kitchen table, anxiously chewing on a pen. Tommy was recovering, just as Noh-Varr told Billy on the phone, much to the young man's and his own relief. It was astonishing still, to watch the former lead-singer leave his catatonic state, to slowly bloom into a creature of fragile confidence once more. Noh-Varr almost whooped with joy the moment Tommy had given him a sneer and biting comment about not needing his 24/7 mothering attitude.  
And though the words had been a far, distant cry of the scalding irony and sarcasm Tommy had wielded before the Nate incident, they were a start.

And a start needed to be celebrated.

He'd made calls and sweet-talked just about all of his old contacts and low and behold, he had a job again. One that he could primarily exercise from 'home'. Noh still had his apartment, but he'd pretty much abandoned his humble abode for the Altman house. Tommy was here and would continue to improve within the safety of this surrounding, so there was no question about it, Noh-Varr would make his home at Tommy's side.

"He sounded pretty happy about it. Actually, he sounded happy all around, I'm gonna guess he and Ted worked things out between them."

A relieved sort of smile broke out over Tommy's worried features. He was still too thin, still too damaged looking to be considered healthy. But he was eating like a horse when Noh complied to his culinary wishes and applied himself to cooking, during which Tommy would await his food like an eager puppy and keep Noh company in the kitchen. Actually, Tommy was pretty much attached to Noh's hip whenever he entered the house, slowly, very slowly, letting his old self, the boisterous confidence surface again like a delicate little sprout.

And Noh-Varr was so infinitely proud of him, he might actually burst if he thought about it too hard. Which he didn't, since he had a million things to instrument as well as taking care of his fragile lover.

Tommy's teeth chattered out a nervous rhythm on the pen, so Noh strode over, gently tugging the small, thin object from Tommy's grip.

"Come on, we just got you off of the fingernails, don't you start another teeth-wrecking habit now."

"I can't help it, you won't let me smoke, you won't let me chew pens, what else am I supposed to stick in my mouth?"

Noh-Varr's eyebrow nearly met his hairline and he could, absolutely not for the life of him, keep the grin from splitting his mouth.

"Oh come on, you dirty old man, I didn't mean that!"

"Didn't you?" Noh's arms found a new place of residence as they settled left and right of Tommy, bringing his face into a pleasantly close proximity. The young man relented and slid slender (still too thin) arms around a strong neck.

"Maybe just a smidgen."

"Smidgen's no good. You know I'm a greedy business opportunist, right?"

"I knew it. You ruthless roach, all or nothing, right?"

It felt good to have their dynamic, albeit much gentler, back to fuel the old flames once more between them.

"Mhm. All of you or all of you. The choice is yours, but make it wisely."

"I'll take it."

Tommy closed the distance between them and Noh let his eyes slide shut, fully immersing himself into the toiling relief it brought to feel his world confirm his affections and return them wholeheartedly.

Finally, the cornucopia of anguish was ebbing away, pulling out towards the horizon and leaving behind a bank of dazzling possibilities. And if Billy's plans worked out as he imagined, all of them would see smiles on those faces haunted by a horrendous past.

Noh-Varr didn't believe in any deities, religion was an abstract concept to him, but he prayed with every ounce of himself that the future would be brighter for all of them.


	12. Hey Jude

_"Please return your seats and tray tables to their upright position and fasten your seatbelt ready for landing. We thank you for choosing Marvel Airlines for your travel today..."_

Kate woke from her frequent flyer meditation when a slim hand tightened on her wrist. Forcing her mind fully awake, she glanced over at the owner of the hand. Cassie was chewing through her bottom lip yet again, flecking her teeth with crimson. Kate turned her palm up and let her fingers clasp the blonde's. Of course Cassie was a wreck right now. Every second aboard the plane brought them closer to a past they had fled from like lemmings.

And now, they were returning to the heart of it. In all her glorious self-confidence and assurance that she had acted on Cassie's best interests, Kate was nervous too. Not because she faced painful memories of a love ripped apart, like her best friend, but because she knew from trustworthy sources (Noh-Varr), that her 'interest' and anchor in the past would show his beautiful, infuriating face again.

She wasn't good to Eli, no feminist in the world could argue that case in her favour.  
Eli too had lost a friend and brother in Nate and yet when he needed someone to lean on, someone to take comfort in, Kate had left him high and dry.

Kate knew it wasn't her fault, Eli had made his decision to disappear all by himself, but there was no shaking the guilt that plummeted through her when they'd heard of what the ex-drummer did. Whatever his reasoning, it didn't justify what he'd done to the rest of them. Teddy needed that money, and so did Tommy, they had lives that depended on what was left in that account and Eli took it all.

It wasn't her fault, but that didn't mean Kate didn't feel responsible for taking away Eli's last vestige on keeping a grip on everything. Cassie had been more important. It was a rational choice to make, between her best friend falling apart and the guy she was sort of dating suffering through a crisis. She'd been so close to losing Cassie to her grief, Kate didn't think twice about it. Utilizing the money her less than favoured father placed at her disposal in lieu of actual parental affection, she'd taken her best friend on a trip around Europe, lingering in Paris, London, anywhere that caught their fancy, any place that could overwhelm Cassie's pain with wonder.

And thank god it had worked. The blonde was never going to be the same, cheerful, passionate girl she once was again, but at least she'd learned how to smile again. And that was worth the world to Kate. Cassie was like a little sister, a personal ray of sunshine in a world Kate understood too well, a world that took and took and never paused to marvel at life.

The beauty of the vastly different lifestyle in Europe let Cassie remember how to laugh again. And it had brought one more silver lining to the massive cloud of losing Nate in that horrific incident.

His name was Jonas, he was just twenty-two, British and the sweetest guy Kate had ever met in her life, and that was saying something considering she was closely acquainted with Ted Altman.

Jonas Shade gave new definition to the trope of the nice guy. They'd met him in Vienna, travelled with him on a train to Berlin and sort of kept him around on their way to France through the Netherlands. He was pleasant company, an extremely intelligent conversationalist and had a great sense of humour too.

Cassie took to him like a moth to a flame, though in this case the flame burned at a very moderate temperature as if not to incinerate the star-eyed little bug.

And Kate watched Jonas look at Cassie as if she was some sort of world wonder, as if life had bestowed its greatest gift upon him in the shape of her company. She didn't know if it was love or the blossoming of something more platonic, but Kate approved. Jonas was good for Cass. He made her laugh and smile and talk freely, without that air of endless depression weighing down on her mind. Kate appreciated Jonas for it.

Which was why he was seated in the row behind them, squashed against the window next to a hefty lady with a thankfully quiet child beside her.

Cassie's fingers squeezed a little tighter at her and Kate brought herself back to her friend.

"It's gonna be okay, Cass."

"I'm not worried."

Yeah, right. Kate wanted to roll her eyes, she knew well enough when someone was lying, her bullshit meter was in excellent shape.

"It's okay to be nervous, alright? I am too, we've been gone a while, it's perfectly normal to be...you know, a little freaked."

"I'm not freaked," Cassie shifted to face Kate and allow her to see the full sincerity in her eyes, "at least, not about what you think. I'm worried for Jonas."

Kate frowned, not quite following Cassie's line of thought right there. What did the boy behind them have to worry about?

"They're gonna think I replaced Nate," there was still a whisper of tragic affection in the way she spoke his name, but the wound was healing.

"Oh come on, with everything that happened, I really don't think they're gonna be all that worried about who you're seeing, Cass."  
That was odd. Kate was usually a model of self-control, it was so ingrained in her every action she didn't have to waste a single thought on it, relying on her amazingly effective brain to mouth filter.

And yet, she knew it made her best friend squirm when she claimed that the blonde was dating the albeit cute, but hauntingly familiar looking boy seated behind them.

"Nobody is replacing Nate. You're just feeling ok with your life and moving...on. It's a good thing, Cass, trust me, if they don't get that, tough luck for them."

Finally, the lip-chewing stopped and the slim fingers squeezed at Kate's in something other than nervous energy. Cassie graced her with a contagious, adorable smile.

"I'm glad you're here with me, Kate."

*  
He could do this. There was nothing to it, right? He'd just show up, explain himself, apologize and they'd all be good, it would be like old times, they wouldn't stare and question and accuse him...right?

Another sigh escaped his lips as he looked over at the house. It looked the same as always, even if the garden was a tad unattended, a little wilder than before, the windows not as clean, a different car in the driveway.  
Eli remembered the days Mrs. Altman's minivan had stood in place of Noh-Varr's black 1970 Chevelle SS. He remembered when Sarah Altman would come complaining that they were rattling the foundations of the house with their music. Never once had she called it noise. She'd been such a warm, kind woman. The kind every kid wanted to have as a mom. He used to envy Teddy when she brought them food and would listen to their latest, botched attempt at creating a good sound together with a smile.

And then, Teddy had lost her and Eli never wanted to think about being envious of him again. His own family was far from perfect, no, they were a damn mess, but they were there. When Teddy lost his mom, he lost his whole world. There were no grandparents, no aunts and uncles, no annoying cousins or nephews, nothing.

It used to send Eli to sleep with the heaviest guilt of his life to date in his stomach, the emptiness of the Altman house and Teddy's grief. Back then, he'd spent the first nights thinking, hard. And come to a decision. When he could, he would reconcile with his family, finally answer those tearful, angry messages on his phone.

Eli had promised himself when they made it, he'd go back to the Bradleys and afford them a better life.

And yet, when they were riding their fame across the sky, not one call. He never dared. He knew he was a coward for it, knew he should stop lying to himself and admit he was scared of facing his family after the way he'd left...

A beeping horn had him jump out of his fearful reverie and a car rushed by, the driver giving him one of the foulest looks he'd ever been on the receiving end on in his life.

Eli stopped pacing, once again looking at the house. It wasn't the same anymore, just like everything else, it had changed. The bright, warm yellow had faded to worn beige, the white accents a dirty grey.

It wasn't the house of his memories. There was no minivan. And there was no little group of idiotic guys, chaotic dorks he called his friends.

There were people in there he knew, but at the same time, he didn't want to know what they thought of him now.

As he watched, he could see someone emerge from the house, a narrow frame of a person, a head crowned with snowy white hair. It was Tommy. Eli blew out a breath of relief. Of course he'd heard everything about Tommy and devoured any updates he could lay hands on. It had helped to hear he was released from hospital, to know he was alive at least.

Looking at him now, it wasn't as easy to accept as truth. He looked thinner than Eli remembered, kept glancing around, as if the world might come rushing in to tear him apart at any moment.

He could have stepped out from hiding spot, approached the terrace, dealt with Tommy first of all. Because Tommy wouldn't know what he'd done. Tommy had been too...fucked up, taking drugs, chasing down the high of losing all memory, to know how Eli had betrayed them all.

As he watched, Tommy dug around the pockets of his long-ish shorts, finding and bringing a small white stick to his lips. The brief flash of fire, and Eli understood he was watching Tommy sneak out for a smoke.

The door opened again and yet another person with bright hair stepped onto the terrace. Noh-Varr's broad frame was unmistakable and a hideously stark contrast to Tommy. Words passed between them, the light frown on Noh's face regarding the cigarette smouldering away between Tommy's fingers. After a brief discussion that might have been an argument, Noh-Varr plucked the offending little item from Tommy's digits, migrated it between his own lips and sucked in smoke. Tommy looked inexplicably smug as he boxed Noh's side and leaned back on the house-wall.

Alright. This was his moment. They weren't prepared, no one but the former manager had been told he was going to be here, right?

The thick bundle in his pocket gave Eli the final boost of confidence as he gave it a squeeze. He was going to pay every last cent he took back to the guys and hopefully, get a chance to explain the emergency that had made him take the money in the first place.

The gravel crunched under his feet and he couldn't for the life of him remember whether or not this had always been a gravel drive.

On the porch of the house, Tommy's grin froze on his face and he grew rigid next to Noh-Varr.

"...Eli?!"

"Seriously, we could just call for takeout, it would take like half an hour and we could always watch another episode of Firefly..."

Teddy attempted yet another tantalizing offer which was lethally combined with wide blue eyes.

Billy had insisted they go out today and despite his birthday privileges, he'd succumbed quietly to the sudden show of willpower from his roommate and yes, sort-of boyfriend. They had never really said it. They didn't have to. It was in their touches, the shared glances, the comfortable silence they could share. They were together now, ready to face the world with their fingers linked.

And as cheesy as that sounded (and probably looked), Teddy couldn't be more happy about it. A little cheese went a long way.

"Teddy, it doesn't matter what kind of secret heaven you think you're trying to sell me, this is written in stone. We. Are. Going."

"But it's my birthday..." oh yes, he was going to sink that low and whine. Billy slowed down and Teddy knew he'd hit a weak chink in the armour with his tone of voice and expression.

"Teddy...come on, this is a surprise. For your birthday. If I say another word it's gonna be all for nothing and I worked really hard on putting this together okay?"

Damn it. Looked like he wouldn't be outdoing Billy Kaplan on that guilt department. Imploring, chocolate brown eyes had his knees buckle just slightly and from the way his stomach clenched, he knew he could never say no to that face. Double damn it.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming...but seriously, do we have to go through this neighbourhood?"

Teddy was onto him.  
Billy glanced over once he was sure the blond wouldn't be looking. Definitely onto him. Well, he'd pretty much just given it away, or at least, given away the intent of all this walking. He'd hoped his overly attractive roommate wouldn't notice that they were heading through Teddy's old neighbourhood. Or better said, his current one, since the house still belonged to one Theodore Altman despite being occupied by Tommy and Noh-Varr and not a smidgen of Teddy's possessions.

"I thought it might be nice if we do, you know, walk a bit," Billy tried, he really did, but once they were in visual range of the house, he knew the jig was up. Teddy tensed, feet dragging over the floor as he slowed and his breathing quickened.

"Billy I don't want to...go there."

Billy worried his bottom lip. He knew Teddy hadn't been back here since Tommy's overdose, since the horrifying day the former guitarist had found his best friend more dead than alive in his own home.

"...You can't stay away forever. Tommy's been waiting to see you Teddy...please come with me."

He'd walked two more paces, now turned to face the blond who'd stopped dead once they began speaking. Teddy's eyes were murky with the pain of memories and Billy would bet every penny he owned that he was reliving the horrible day over and over.

The sigh that left Teddy was a borderline grunt and Billy watched the defiance bleed from his strong shoulders. Alright, he didn't like defeating Teddy with begging, but the goal justified the means.

The house was more clearly in sight after another five minutes of walking and Teddy ceased the light chatter they'd filled the time with.

There was a small group of people on the porch, holding drinks and talking amongst themselves, but silence descended upon them as they turned to the two approaching figures.

Billy heard Teddy's breath hitch before he broke into a small run, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. He felt a grin tug at his lips, then moved his legs into a jog to follow his sort of boyfriend.

"Ted!"

"Man, you made it!"

Teddy could feel his heart pounding, wanting to burst from his ribcage as his eyes took in just who had gathered on the front steps of his house.

They were all there! Tommy, Noh, Kate, Cassie and Eli too!

"What are you all-Tommy!"

His best friend was in his arms, squeezing the life out of him and Teddy couldn't help but laugh, it felt so good to see Tommy, to hear the muttered 'missed you idiot' as he wrapped his own arms around the slender, but so very much alive frame.

"Hey buddy," he muttered, then Tommy was replaced by Kate and Cassie, both squeezing him with an affection he'd missed more than anything in the world.

Eli hung back, but he met Teddy's eyes when the girls finally let go of him.

"Hey man."

"Hey..." the former guitarist waited, Eli was shifting nervously from foot to foot, hands in his pockets and something weighing heavy on his shoulders.

"So, I'm real sorry, Ted, I know I fucked up but I promise you'll get-"

His explanation was cut short as Teddy surged forward and squeezed him so hard he thought he heard his ribs crack.

"It's so good to see you Eli!" Teddy's voice was thick with emotion, but definitely on the happy side as he actually lifted his friend off of his feet. Behind them, Kate gave a grin, one that softened into a smile as Eli's surprised gaze met hers over Teddy's shoulder. He closed his arms slowly, patting the blond on the back.

"You too Ted."

"You're gonna snap him in half, bro."

Tommy was grinning, looking so much like himself it was uncanny to think of what a broken mess he'd been the last time Teddy saw him.

Billy finally made it to the little group, panting slightly from his run, but the grin that seemed to have infected the entire assembly spreading to his lips too.

"What are you all doing here?" Teddy had released Eli from his crushing hug and gaped at all of his friends around him sharing a knowing smile, then a pointed look in Billy's direction.

"It's your birthday, man. We wouldn't have missed it for the world," Eli explained, straightening his hoodie a little and trying to lose the fluster. He flashed Billy a brilliant sort of smile and the young man scratched at his hair, as if he was surprised to receive any of the credit for all of this.

"Well, Noh-Varr helped a lot too, I couldn't have done this without him."

Teddy looked at all of them again, as if he couldn't sate his eyes with their presence. They were all here for him. Everyone he'd thought he'd lost was back, right here, in his house, even, smiling for him with a happiness he felt swelling his chest, ready to burst out any second.

Without any hesitation, he pulled Billy into his grip, seizing his face with both hands and placing a frantic kiss to his lips, then breaking away before the frazzled young man even had a chance to respond to the pressure.

"Thank you. Jesus, Billy, thank you so much."

The smile Billy offered him in return could light up the entire world, the soft affection in his gaze enough to take all ills from Teddy's mind and throw them out of the window.

"You're welcome, Teddy. Happy Birthday."

No word passed his lips, but Teddy pressed himself to Billy again, barely able to believe someone should care for him so deeply as this guy obviously did.

Kate gave a little cheer and clapped and the rest of the group followed suit, wishing Teddy a happy birthday and applauding as Billy gained colour and returned Teddy's heartfelt affection.

"Come on guys, enough of the gross, sappy stuff, Ted has a cake to cut and presents and shit!"

Of course Tommy was the first to break through the thick, warm feeling on the porch and the couple separated, all smiles and laughter and absolute delight.

The small party was in full swing, music was playing through the new, custom rigged stereo Noh had 'gifted' the house and Teddy with, the cake was nearly devoured in its entirety and a pleasant buzz filled the air.

Teddy took a moment as he stacked dishes in the kitchen, peering over the bar isle into the living room at the crowd of people he held dearest in his life.

Cassie and her new...very close friend, Jonas, were sitting on the couch, the girl sipping her drink and laughing about something the Brit said. She looked radiant right now. This was Cassie as he'd met her, a bubbly, cheerful girl with the most friendly smile he'd ever seen. Jonas looked bedazzled and a little flushed, easy to understand with a girl like that, clearly blessing him with every ounce of interest.

Eli and Kate had retreated to a corner and Teddy couldn't hear their talk, but by the way Kate's hand was touching Eli's arm, he'd guess that they were figuring things out between them. He hoped they did. He'd never seen someone make Eli forget about all his troubles at home as easily as Kate seemed able to, and Teddy sincerely wished that at least their friendship would be rekindled.

And then there was Tommy, sticking straws in his nose and doing something ridiculous to Noh-Varr's drink, which earned him a patient smile and enduring, raised eyebrow. Teddy didn't know what exactly had happened between them every moment they'd spent together in the Altman house, but whatever it was, clearly a damn good thing. Nothing about Tommy reflected the self-destructive low he'd been through except that he was still a little too skinny. And the way he looked at Noh-Varr when he thought no one was paying attention? His best friend was in love, and finally, he found someone who offered him the world and more. Tommy would be okay, with Noh by his side to hold him steady should he ever lose control of the rudder again.

"Looks like everyone is having a great time."

The soft voice to his left broke Teddy from his observations and he felt his heart pound a little harder at the sight of Billy.

Billy, this absolutely wonderful creature who actually returned his affection so much Teddy thought he might be dizzy if he thought about how lucky he really was.

"Yeah...I am too. This is really great, Billy...You're amazing."

A slight handwave dismissed his compliment, but the tender blush on Billy's face informed Teddy it had hit home nonetheless.

"Seriously, it wasn't all me. But you can drown me in adorable gratitude later, I've got another present for you, come on."

Teddy let himself be guided through the house he'd grown up in, through the door leading to the garage.

"Billy..." he muttered, but expected no answer. The sight before him tugged at memories, no, it ripped them out the little chest in his mind they'd been locked away into.

The setup was perfect. This was exactly how he remembered everything, even the amplifiers stood in their old positions, the drums, the age-old microphone stand... How had Billy known? This looked like a picture-perfect reconstruction straight from his teenage years, back in the days when he and three other boys had started their dream of becoming rockstars.

"Tommy helped and Noh moved everything heavy...I thought you might...you know, like to play...together again."

Teddy turned slightly, eyes drawn down by what Billy was offering to him. The cherry colour of the guitar gleamed in the late July sunlight filtering through the window and Teddy felt his fingers itch, yearning to pluck at those strings, to feel the comforting weight of his favourite instrument, one he had not touched in months, in his hands again.

Billy proffered it to him with reverence gleaming in his eyes, an old glimpse of the fanboy Teddy had met so long ago in the cold of New York's winter.

The world fell away into a blur as his fingers slid over the frets, plucked at strings and found the comfort of a life he'd left behind so brutally. Someone had tuned his Fender for him and Teddy started tapping his foot. It rolled through him slowly and he closed his eyes, picturing the first time he'd stood right here, in his mom's garage, with those three idiots he called best friends and bandmates.

The song they'd tried that day was one of his favourites and it was the best memory he had of that time. Fingers began strumming, finding the right notes to commend the nostalgic, lingering scent of memories in his mind.

Billy watched and he too delved into memory. The first time he'd seen the Young Avengers play, Teddy had captivated his attention like nothing else in his life. The way he stood, became one with the guitar, coaxed sound from bits of string and wood, wove it into a melody he knew by heart, so much so he closed his eyes and simply felt for the music, as if it was always there, gently flowing through his soul in a sweet melody...

He recognized the tune as Sweet Child o' Mine, a song the entire world probably knew the lyrics to. Billy numbly fiddled with the amp and the sound blasted through the house, choking the music in the living room into silence and drawing its occupants like moths to a flame. Or rather, bees to a beautiful flower, golden and blue and radiant.

They all shuffled into the garage as if they were answering a silent call, a message conveyed only by Teddy's fingers and soul, poured out and amplified by the guitar and tune.

Eli climbed behind his drums, settling on his stool and finding his sticks, rolling them in his palm for just a moment, but his eyes clung to Teddy, expression entirely a riddle that Billy didn't have the time to solve, because someone had picked up the bass, the one instrument none of the 'decorators' had been sure was a good idea.  
Jonas strummed himself into the rhythm, following Teddy into the song as if he'd done so all his life.

Eli's beat bled into the soul of the song, giving it pace and power, finding a perfect blend with Jonas' sound as they followed Teddy's lead.  
Kate and Cassie had joined Billy as the small audience witnessing something that felt like a wonder to all present. There was something intangible in the air, and it felt amazing, awe-inspiring and relieving and just about every emotion on the scale possible.

Tommy was last to be drawn to the sound, hesitating in the doorway, Noh-Varr crowded in behind him as he stared at the microphone stand, fighting some sort of internal battle. Billy held his breath, waiting for the young man who looked so incredibly like him to move or break the spell.

But it never happened. Noh muttered something into Tommy's ear and Billy did not miss the small, reassuring kiss placed to the former singer's head and Tommy set into motion, striding to the middle of garage, fingers wrapping around the only companion his voice needed.

_"She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood, memories, where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky..."_

He didn't miss a beat, his voice hitching at the end of the first verse, but Tommy was no stranger to the song, the melody, the pitch and the magic in the garage right now.

This was it. This was _home_.

Teddy watched his friends play, watched Tommy sing as if he was born for it and everything in him felt numb with joy, bright with the music that filled the garage and world beyond it with dazzling lights. This was how they were supposed to be, and this was all that had ever mattered. Being together, playing songs they loved, making something that meant too much for each and every single one of them.

Playing together in the heart of where their band had started was everything Teddy had wanted and the world with all its problems came second. Or maybe third, no, actually, last.

Billy never thought he'd get to see this. Only in his dreams had he witnessed the Young Avengers in their beginnings, and he'd imagined them exactly like this.

Teddy looked more than amazing. He looked fantastic, gorgeous, beautiful, surrounded by music and people he held dear. There was so much wonder in the air and Billy felt breathlessly humbled to be a part in all of this. This was exactly where he'd always wanted to be, and exactly where everyone belonged.

The song came to an end, but the mysterious, invigorating atmosphere in the air did not. Tommy breathed hard, not having sung anything in months and especially not something as challenging as this song, with all of its memories attached.

His eyes felt blurry so he swiped at them, trying to blink through the haze and find reality once more. Kate, Billy and Cassie were clapping and cheering and everything was almost right. He scanned a little to the left to find Noh-Varr, who was just flipping his phone shut and returning it to his pocket, a smile on his face that had the singer melt just a smidgen. Noh looked so proud of him, it was ridiculous. And really, really great.

"I didn't know you could play, seriously, how many secret talents haven't you told me about?"

Jonas gave Cassie a rather embarrassed smile as he petted the bass guitar. He'd struck something in the harmony of the band, alright, and though he wasn't Nate, who would...forever be a sorely missed part of them, Jonas played perfectly.

"You should jam with us sometime," Eli commented from behind the drums, where he'd remained as if it might contain his life and soul.

"Yeah, you really should, you're great." Teddy extended an arm and Jonas clasped at it willingly, enthusiasm and the spark of a very familiar, dreamy hope in his eyes.

"I'd be very honoured to."

"Does this mean we're back? We're...Young Avengers again?"

Tommy's voice didn't hold quite as steadily as he'd hoped for, and all eyes turned to him, then to Teddy, wandered over Eli, Jonas, and back to the guitarist.

Teddy thought for a good, long moment, leaving them all to wait with baited breath. Waiting was a horrible thing, really, especially at inappropriately significant moments like this.

"We're back. Show's gotta go on, right?"

All of them could agree to that. The grins on their faces, momentarily suspended as they'd waited for Teddy's decision, reappeared with a vengeance, and the newly reformed band's little audience spread into the musicians.

"So, can I have an autograph when you're famous again?" Billy smiled his best starstruck smile up at Teddy.

"I don't know, kid, did you bring anything for me to sign?"

"How about my arm?"

Billy offered up the limb, unable to keep the grin from his face, both of them entirely aware of the first, awkward and somehow unbelievably distant time they'd met. Teddy seized the offered limb, but he made no motion to get some sort of pen. Instead, he lifted the slender arm up, taking Billy's hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"Only if I get to take you home, fanboy."

Teddy's sun gave an exasperated snort and tugged his hand from the guitarist's grip, instead opting to throw his arms around a strong neck and pulling himself close enough to bump their noses, then foreheads together.

"I'm already home, dork."

Teddy couldn't help the shiver, the sweet, tingle of bliss down his spine and coursing through his body at those words and if he wasn't already grinning so hard his face hurt, he'd certainly try for it now. He placed another, sickeningly adorable kiss to Billy's forehead, brushing his fingers through unruly dark hair.

"And you're never leaving. Til death do us part."

"Was that a cheesy little proposal you just threw me? Because I will take it and run, no second thoughts."

"I'm gonna seal the deal with a plastic ring from a gumball machine and you're mine, I've put a ring on it."

"You're the worst, Altman."

"And you're the best, Kaplan."


End file.
